


Emmy

by NeonViolet



Category: SKAM (Norway)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fluff and Angst, Kid Fic, Kinda, M/M, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, SKAM Big Bang, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-10
Updated: 2019-03-10
Packaged: 2019-11-08 09:38:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 48,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17978921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NeonViolet/pseuds/NeonViolet
Summary: He reached out to grab her hand, but she pulled it away before he could. The rejection stung.“Isak, I’m pregnant.”-Or:Isak is 25 and working in marine biology.Sana is his best friend.He has a 7 year old.And her new school principal looks familiar.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> We made it!!
> 
> I had so much fun in the Skam Reverse Big Bang with my fic, [Creatures Of Habit](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15469044/chapters/35910264), I had to participate in this event as well. And to add more excitement - my incredible artist is none other then [Kim](https://instagram.com/kkhymmmm?utm_source=ig_profile_share&igshid=10b9f5zabllix)! 
> 
> She’s created 4 pieces for this story. They will be featured in the corresponding chapter of their scene and her instagram will also be linked at the end in order to see her work there as well. 
> 
> For those of you who read CoH - this is _not_ that, but I hope you love this anyway. It is so close to my heart. 
> 
> The story is completed, but I’m keeping the chapter count a secret to give a bit of anticipation for posting this week. Might be once a day, several times a day, once a every few days - who knows?! Subscribe for updates, babes!

**JANUARY**

 

The soft ambient sounds of ocean waves and whales singing on his white noise machine filling up his office, are suddenly interrupted by the violent rumble of his phone vibrating on his desk. He groans inwardly as his whole body stiffens, filling with a heavy dread.

 

A quick glance at the clock on his laptop informs him that he still has a half hour before school lets out, yet the caller ID on his phone reads _Nordnes Skole_ and he knows that his apprehension is about to be validated the moment he answers this call.

 

_Ugh._

 

“This is Isak Valtersen.” He answers the phone with the formal greeting reserved for work calls, knowing he isn’t going to be able to mask his irritation at whomever is on the other end.

 

“Hi Mr. Valtersen, this is Mrs. Albertsen calling in regards to Emmy.” The shrill nasally voice of his daughters teacher occupies the line and he flinches slightly at the sound, never particularly fond of this woman or her voice.

 

“We had an incident this afternoon with Emmy involving another student, and I’d very much like to speak with you after school if you’re available.”

 

Her tone invites no room for opposition and past experience has taught him to pick his battles with this woman. An old school teacher, a little _too_ set in her ways, he’s had it out with her in the past over these _“incidents”_ with his daughter - the bulk of which, more often than not, have been brought on by Mrs. Albertsen’s own prejudices and refusal to progress socially into the current century. The knowledge that she is retiring after this school year and he will never have to deal with her again, is a small silver lining that he chooses to grasp onto during situations like these.

 

That isn’t to say, however, that Emmy hasn’t brought on some of these issues herself. At seven years old, he’s managed to somehow raise the strongest willed child in Norway. Too smart for her own good and too aware of herself to make things simple for anyone.

 

Resigning himself to the unplanned meeting, he quietly agrees and ends the call as quickly as possible. Sending a brief text to his boss explaining his early exit, he shoulders on his coat and leather bag, and braces himself for the bitter cold that awaits him outside and the condescension that comes with meeting with your child’s conservative teacher when you’re a gay 25 year old single father.

 

-

 

It’s not as windy out as he anticipates, lessening the sting of the cold temperature and doing very little to distract him from his wandering thoughts as he walks the short distance from the parking lot into his daughters school. They’re only three days into being back after winter break and he’s currently racking his brain for what trouble Emmy was able to find herself into this early into the new semester - snorting to himself humorlessly at the irony of the number _three,_ before opening the doors to the old building and making his way to the loud and distinct yellow classroom door.

 

He peeks through the window and sees the familiar maroon snapback sitting backwards atop a head of unruly chestnut brown waves. She’d gotten into the habit of wearing his old hats the last year or so, refusing to put on the ones he buys her that are more appropriate for her little head, instead drowning in the faded caps from his teens.

 

He pretends to be annoyed - but she’s too damn cute in the oversized hats and it’s endearing as hell.

 

She’s sitting at a round table, both palms face down while her right hand taps a rhythm onto the surface. He sees her lips moving slightly while she counts, eyes focused intently on her task and brow dipped in the middle, accentuating her concentration

 

He inhales deeply, not looking forward to the discussion awaiting him, but also becoming increasingly worried at the stress he sees manifesting itself in Emmy.

 

“Mr. Valtersen, have a seat. I’ll be right with you.”

 

At the mention of his name, Emmy looks up as he makes his way from the door to where she is sitting, making eye contact only briefly before continuing her task of tapping and counting.

 

Pulling out the chair next to her, he sets his bag down and sits quietly, waiting for her to finish and give him her attention; watches her small lips move silently as she counts to herself.

 

The only dominant feature of his she got is the deep stretched Cupid’s bow on her top lip - the rest of her is all her mother. The rounded tip of her nose, and natural blush of her cheeks. The ever so slight tan color of her skin and the rich brown of her hair. Both he and her mother had green eyes, but Emmy’s shape takes after her - the wide roundness of them - always questioning, always gleaming.

 

Her lips stop moving and she looks up at him, really _seeing_ him for the first time since he’s arrived and quickly rolls her eyes before Mrs. Albertsen joins them at the table - separating herself by sitting across from them.

 

Emmy’s teacher situates a few papers in front of her and he watches his daughters tiny fists clench when two forms from the top fall haphazardly off one of the stacks, Mrs. Albertsen doing nothing to straighten them back.

 

He rests his hand on the back of her neck, squeezing firmly to ground her and tapping his thumb three times on the soft spot behind her ear, watching as she visibly relaxes and can feel his own tension seep out as his daughters chest rises dramatically with a slow deep breath - the best indication that she is soothing herself.

 

“Mr. Valtersen, today I had to send a student to the nurse with a sprained wrist after Emmy pushed him down during recess.”

 

Isak winces at the news and looks down at his daughter - who has the decency to appear remorseful - as he silently lets himself plan out a quick speech for later on why violence isn’t the answer and all that crap, making sure to tune back into Emmy’s teacher when she starts speaking again.

 

“Anders will be fine, of course, and his parents don’t seem overly upset. However when I asked Emmy for the reason for her outburst she simply says that he ‘got in her way’.”

 

“He did!” Emmy speaks up for the first time, and he feels her muscles tense up beneath where his hand still rests on her neck. He taps his thumb three more times, resting for a few moments and then resuming with another three taps. Repeating the action one more time for her benefit.

 

“And as I’ve explained to you already, Emmy, we don’t resort to shoving people simply for being in our way.” Mrs. Albertsen’s condescending tone isn’t doing anyone any favors, so Isak shifts so he can face his daughter more squarely, before ignoring the old woman in front of him and addressing Emmy himself.

 

“Bug, look at me.” She squeezes her fists once, twice, then three times before turning her face and meeting his eyes. “What happened? Tell me how he got in your way?”

 

He watches the slight tremble of her lip before she bites down to stop it, taking a moment to put on her best brave face before answering. Her voice barely above a whisper.

 

“He kept jumping on the bricks in front of the swings while I was trying to count them.” She lets out a resigned sigh. “I just wanted to count them before I got on because if I didn’t—“ she cuts herself off before she voices her fears and Isak quickly glances over at her teacher, sending her a warning glare to remain quiet while his daughter continues. Knowing how unbelievably insensitive she is to Emmy’s condition - downplaying it every chance she gets and not understanding why Emmy simply couldn’t just _stop her habits_.

 

“He does it all the time dad.” He sees the tears start to well up in her desperation for him to understand. Her voice breaking just a little as she speaks. “And every morning he kicks my chair before school starts, tells me counting doesn’t start until our math lesson.”

 

She blinks her tears away quickly, knowing how much she hates crying in front of anyone, and he watches her put her brave face back on.

 

Isak on the other hand is working overtime at tamping down his own fury at some dumbass kid bullying his daughter every morning on her teacher's watch. Knowing how important Emmy’s morning routines are. Knowing how very _undisruptive_ she is during those few moments before class, and wondering why the hell this behavior is going unmonitored and unacknowledged. Wondering why her classroom isn’t a safe space for her.

 

Before he can open his mouth and begin a verbal assault, she begins speaking. “Oh Emmy,” she reaches a hand to rest on Emmy’s arm which his daughter jerks back immediately.

 

Mrs. Albertsen seems a little offended, looking to him for an explanation, but unless she wants him to go on a rant explaining why consent is important, she’ll have to wait for another time. She quickly schools her features however and jumps back into her explanation.

 

“I’m sure he just has a crush on you, dear. All boys behave that way when they like a girl.” She’s laughing, voice lilting in amusement as if this was the most obvious explanation.

 

Emmy’s eyes go wide as she pushes her chair back and stands up, letting out an undignified grunt in the process.

 

“That is the _dumbest_ thing I have ever heard.” And she storms away, grabbing her backpack before exiting the classroom.

 

Isak picks his own bag up, thankful for the deer in headlights look that Mrs. Albertsen is currently sporting, the entire exchange having rendered her speechless for the moment.

 

He addresses her as he stands.  “Well you heard her.” He politely pushes his chair back in. “That’s the dumbest thing she’s ever heard.” He shrugs and walks away, heading in the same direction as the small furious brunette - and telling himself that the inevitable call from the principal tomorrow will have been worth it.

 

-

 

The ride home is quiet, save for the soft murmur of _First Aid Kit_ , Emmy’s favorite band, playing in the background.

 

 _“Bug, that’s_ my _favorite band.”_

 

_“Don’t be ridiculous dad, we can share the same favorite band. You don’t own them. Besides, they actually have a song with my name in it. Is there also a song called ‘Isak’?”_

 

_“You’re so annoying.”_

 

_“I know.”_

 

Both Valtersen’s take advantage of the calming movement of the music and the quiet hum of the drive, allowing themselves to unwind from the confrontation at the school before arriving at home and setting into their routines.

 

They take off their shoes at the door and hang their coats up on the wall, taking extra care to line everything up _just so_. Isak thinking for the infinite time how much more purpose there is in the little things when you have a child with Obsessive Compulsive Disorder.

 

Each of them head into their bedrooms to change out of their _outside clothes_ before he makes his way into the kitchen, going through the mail while she walks downstairs in her sleeping leggings, mismatched neon colored socks, and his old Jesus t-shirt which hangs like a dress on her tiny frame. She settles in at the dining room table, emptying her backpack of its contents and lining her folders up in front of her in neat rows.

 

“What do you want for dinner, Bug?” He doesn’t look up, continues going through the mail as he leans against the counter, saving a few coupons to a nearby Thai restaurant he and Emmy like.

 

“Sushi.” She doesn’t bother to look up from her homework when she answers.

 

Well, not actual homework given by the teacher - just extra work she enjoys because she’s a nerd and bookworm like he is.

 

“Try again.”

 

He can hear the eye roll as she mumbles under her breath. “Say what you mean and mean what you say.”

 

He looks up from the pile of junk mail.  

 

“I beg your pardon?”

 

She sets down her pencil and looks over at him with an exasperated look one normally gives an ignorant child - the role reversal is unnerving.

 

“You asked me what I wanted to eat, my answer was just fine. What you should have asked is what do I want to eat that you can cook. That’s what you really want to know.”

 

They both stare at each other for a moment, a few blinks exchanged between the two of them as they wait to see who will give in first.

 

It’s Isak.

 

“I’m ignoring you and you’re having leftover pizza.”

 

She turns back around to her work. “Yeah, I figured.”

 

-

 

Dinner is uneventful, mostly filled with Isak filling his daughter in on a new project he’s working on at work, promising to take her out on their next expedition when they do their annual photo identification of the pod of Humpback whales they’ve been tracking over the last two years.

 

For some reason she loves marine biology as much as he does, and he’s not so secretly thrilled by that. Especially since her other passion is basketball and he can’t for the life of him find it interesting, constantly making desperate attempts at trying to get her into football instead.

 

It hasn’t worked yet - so that’s what Sana is for.

 

“So, you take a picture of their tail—“

 

“Fluke.”

 

“Huh?”

 

“A whale’s tail is called their fluke. Don’t talk with your mouth full.”

 

She swallows exaggeratedly.

 

“So you take a picture of their fluke, and you know which whale it is just by looking at it?!” She cocks her head to the side in her incredulity, looking so much like her mother when she does.

 

”Yeah. There’s a pattern on the underside of each fluke, no two whales have the same pattern, so—“

 

“Like fingerprints.”

 

“Yes. Just like fingerprints. Don’t talk with your mouth full.”

 

That earns him an eye roll, but she swallows before continuing.

 

“So do you name them too?”

 

“Kind of. We give them an identification number.”

 

She takes a sip of her water, eyeing him as she does.

 

“What?”

 

“I don’t believe you.”

 

“What’s that supposed to mean?! It’s a fact - every whale we tag is given a number for the team to identify them.”

 

“Dad,” she sets her cup down and aims that exasperated look at him again. “You’ve named the three birds that come to the feeder I made last year that hangs outside the front door.”

 

They stare at each other for a few moments, Isak knowing before it happens that’s she won this one again.

 

She’s terrifying.

 

“Whatever. I named a few of them.” He sticks his tongue out at her while she pumps her fist in the air victoriously. “And in case you’re wondering, they all have names that start with the letter _H_.”

 

She pauses a moment, sending him a knowing look.

 

“And..?”

 

“And my favorite one is Hans! Ugh!” He throws his napkin at her face.

 

She breaks out into a wide gapped tooth smile, eyes crinkling and her youth shining through - _finally_.

 

“You’re cute dad.”

 

“And you’re annoying.”

 

She giggles in that adorable high pitched tone of hers, offset by the natural rasp in her voice.

 

“I know.”

 

He shakes his head fondly, standing up to grab their plates and planting a kiss on the top of her head.

 

“Go brush your teeth. I’ll get your medicine out.”

 

-

 

They spend the rest of their evening on the couch reading. Emmy lying with her head against the armrest and her legs perched on his lap, crossed at the ankle. The enormous book of planets that his father bought for her on his last visit spread open in her arms, while Isak peruses on his tablet, continuing his research on emotional support animals - dogs in particular - for his daughter. An endeavor he’s been reading up on tirelessly since her therapist brought it up a month ago.

 

_“Her symptoms don’t manifest through a fear of germs or dirty things, Isak. The studies show incredible results and benefits for the alleviation of anxiety with the help from an ESA. In Emmy’s case, I think it’s something you should really consider. Helping to manage her anxiety is going to aid in managing her compulsions and rituals.”_

 

He puts his tablet down and looks over at his kid, completely engrossed in the pictures and words in front of her - watching and enjoying this moment as she presents as _Neurotypical_ , knowing that later in the evening it won’t look so simple.

 

Knowing that before she climbs into bed she will arrange her pillows so that there is one on either side of her while she sleeps, needing the symmetry to keep her calm. Knowing that before she can turn the lamp off on her bedside table she will tap the lamp three times, pause, and then do it again until it’s been done three times. Knowing that after he tells her good night he needs to say _‘I love love love you.’_ Otherwise she starts to panic and has to ask him to do it again.  

 

_“Goodnight Bug. I love you.”_

 

_“Daddy, love love love me?”_

 

_And his heart will pinch at the fear in her voice and he’ll mentally kick himself for forgetting._

 

_“Yes Bug. I love love love you.”_

 

He doesn't forget anymore, but he did when she was finally properly diagnosed almost two years ago and he finally began to pay more attention to her patterns and desperate need for them.

 

So as much as he loathes the idea of having to take a dog out early in the morning during winters in Norway - he hates his daughters OCD and the Anxiety Disorder that comes with it even more. Hates when it gets out of hand and he can see her wanting to stop herself but unable to do so. Despises the internal conflict he sees when she meets someone new and wants to socialize but worries when they knock on the door twice instead of three times. Watches her moods elevate with the frustration of not being able to control her impulses and fears - seeing the awareness in her eyes that she understands that she can’t help it but the sadness that follows because she’s only 7 and is still learning how to be a human being.

 

So yeah, he’ll walk the damn dog in the snow.

 

“Dad, you’re staring.”

 

He puts his ipad on the cushion next to him, and drags her by the ankle until her bum is flushed up against his side, picking her up and setting her down on his lap.

 

“I always stare at pretty things.”

 

“You always say that.”

 

“It’s always true.”

 

In a moment of seriousness, she hides her face in his neck, skinny arms wrapping around him and squeezing tightly.

 

Her voice comes out muffled and he feels the moisture of her breath on his skin.

 

“Are we gonna talk now?”

 

He nods so she can feel it.

 

“We’re gonna talk now.” He gives her a moment before continuing. “My room or yours?”

 

She sits up slowly, eyes squinting and head tilted to the ceiling in thought.

 

“Yours?”

 

He raises his eyebrows at her in question, waiting for her to finalize her decision on which designated safe space they will use for their discussion.

 

“Yours.” She says more resolutely.

 

-

 

He shuts down the house down stairs, checking locks and switching lights off, before making his way up to his bedroom.

 

Their home isn’t big, a typical wooden house in Bergen, but it’s theirs. A place they get to call home, thanks in large part to his father who has been a pillar of support since the moment Emmy was born. He would have never finished his Masters degree if his father hadn’t insisted on helping him and Emma out - adamant that they continue with their education and focus on their daughter, while his dad took care of the financial logistics during their years in school. Watched Emmy in the evenings so he could study and take his online courses while getting his bachelor's degree in three years instead of four. Made dinner so when he and Emma weren’t studying, they could spend it with their daughter, the whole time building an incredible relationship with his granddaughter and mending the one with his son as well.

 

Even with his father’s help it hadn’t been easy. Those were some of the most exhausting years of his life - and that’s saying something considering the insomnia he suffers with from time to time. Him and Emma shared an apartment, both splitting responsibilities as new parents even though they weren’t together. Late evenings of waking up to feed and change an infant, only to have class a few hours later and come home to feed and change Emmy again. Sometimes fruitless attempts at trying to remember to eat himself and get as much studying done before she woke up for her next feeding, only for it to get harder when she became a toddler and could get into _everything._

 

Having to keep an eye on her and chase her around the house while also attempting to concentrate on his advanced statistics course is a skill he wishes he could put on his resumé.

 

But every late night, every party invite he turned down for an evening of dirty diapers and charts of marine mammal physiology was worth it when he walked across the stage to receive his degree and saw a bouncing Emmy on his father’s lap, clapping her hands and yelling out his name with pride.

 

It was hard, but his dad had been amazing - it was an incredible privilege not everyone is afforded and one he will never take for granted.

 

He walks in his room to see Emmy already situated on the far side of the bed, the pillows from her own room sitting at the edge and waiting to be arranged around her - a clear indication that she is spending the night with him.

 

He climbs into the bed, sitting up against the headboard and stretching an arm out - an invitation for her to climb in against him that she takes.

 

“Tell me what happened.”

 

Part of living with a neurobiological disorder means having to constantly be aware of triggers that can potentially agitate your symptoms - a task that Isak understands the importance of, but worries is forcing his kid to grow up faster than she should. Something he’s particularly sensitive to as someone who faced the challenges of adulthood earlier then he planned.

 

But this is why they have their _talks._ It gives her the day to put her thoughts into order and then hash them out with him later on - allowing him to validate her but also bring some perspective back if she starts being _too_ _grown_ \- an unfortunate, and somewhat irritating, side effect to her high IQ.

 

She’s silent for a moment, taking the opportunity to pick up his hand and tap on each finger three times before she speaks.

 

“Miss Lette was out sick. I had someone else for therapy Monday and today.” She exhales like she’s just lifted an enormous weight and keeps tapping out a three beat rhythm on his fingers.

 

He hums in understanding and presses a kiss to the top of her head. Next to himself, his father and Sana, Lette is Emmy’s favorite person on this planet.

 

Much of it has to do with the fact that she’s been her therapist since her diagnosis - and like a small duckling imprinting on the first living thing it sees once it’s hatched, Emmy grew attached to Lette; her therapist being able to put words to feelings she never had a language for, and helping her to understand herself on the inside.

 

The first few months after her diagnosis it was all she ever talked about.

 

_“Dad, isn’t Lette the prettiest person you’ve ever seen?”_

 

_“Did you know Lette wears red sneakers?! I want red sneakers too!”_

 

 _“Miss Lette doesn’t eat meat. I’m gonna be a vegetarian.”_ (That one was short lived).

 

_“Dad, I know you like boys, but c’mon - look how pretty!”_

 

 _“Miss Lette is the smartest person I know.” (_ Admittedly, that one stung a little).

 

Lette was a big and important piece of their lives, and change of any sort tended to cause Emmy’s symptoms to flare up - but removing her favorite person from her while she also started her new school routine again, all while experiencing the bullying in class from that dumbass kid - it was a wonder it took three days for her to explode.

 

He brings his arm around his daughter just a little tighter, taking a short moment to mourn his youth in moments like these, and lets her finish her tapping of his fingers - knowing there was little more that needed to be discussed here.

 

She knew shoving the dumbass kid (that was his name now) was wrong, but he wasn’t going to make her apologize to him until he got to the bottom of what was going on in that classroom. She was able to look at her behaviors and identify a trigger - a task most adults failed to be able to do, and she called out another human for their toxic and sexist views when they suggested violent behavior towards her was acceptable all in the name of _‘Boys will be boys.’_

 

He takes another moment, this time to mourn his daughters youth, but making sure to remind himself of how proud of her he is. The moment didn’t need to be ruined with patronizing words from him. He does however, make a mental note to email the principal himself first thing in the morning to try and get ahead of this situation.

 

She stops her tapping and looks up at him, eyes wide and with a telltale sign of moisture brimming at the edges.

 

“Daddy?”

 

“Hm?”

 

“I forgot what mamma’s voice sounds like.”

 

_Oh._

 

He slides down in the mattress so they are both laying on their sides, faces inches apart from each other as he wraps one arm over her waist, tucking her into him.

 

She speaks up before he can say anything.

 

“Will you give me Eskimo kisses like mamma used to?”

 

He’s frozen in place for a moment - stunned that she remembers those - before leaning in slowly and nuzzling his nose to hers. He leans back, but she catches his face in her tiny hands.

 

“Again.” Her voice still a whisper.

 

So he does, leaning forward like before and brushing their noses together gently.

 

“One more time daddy.”

 

And he does it again for the third time.

 

She keeps her eyes closed, watches as she concentrates on her breaths, before sitting up to grab her pillows and place them where they need to be around her.

 

He thinks about not tapping the lamp tonight - an exercise Lette has had them working on to reduce some of her compulsions ever so slowly, little by little - but she’s had a stressful week and an overwhelming day, and she’s functioning at the highest level she’s going to be able to for the night.

 

So he taps the lamp three times so she can hear it before shutting it off and getting comfortable himself.

 

“Goodnight dad.”

 

“Goodnight Bug. I love love love you.”

 

“I love love love you too.”

 

-

 

**_THEN_ **

 

_It was raining._

 

_The fall days were beginning to give way for winter, no longer were the trees dressed in rich colors of red and gold and orange, instead shedding their clothing in exchange for barren branches and foggy cold days. And today it was raining._

 

_And if that didn’t feel poetic as hell._

 

_He sat on the small couch in his studio apartment - guilt money from a previously absent father making it possible for Isak to be 17 and on his own - and waited for Emma to get out of the bathroom and come sit with him._

 

_He’d gone over this in his head countless times now. He could do this. He’d already managed to tell his father - although that had been a bit more cowardly, as he just sent him a brief ‘I’m gay’ text one night when he was drunk and looking to start a fight. It didn’t work and ended up with a heart to heart with his father inside a quiet café outside of town._

 

_But still, he could do this._

 

_After he’d lifted the initial weight of coming out to his dad, there was no doubt in his mind who he needed to speak to next. Sana was his best friend - but there was someone more important still, and she was currently changing into dry clothes in his bathroom while he fought down the anxiety rising in his chest over the conversation he was about to have._

 

_Emma had been in his life for as long as he could remember. They were almost forced into being friends as the only kids their age in the neighborhood they grew up in - both sets of parents pushing them into play dates against their will. But aside from their families, they had little in common - both going separate ways in school as they grew up, and making friends outside of each other. Still, there was a part of each other that they understood in ways most couldn’t - and it was that small thread that kept them linked all this time._

 

_So maybe that’s why Isak slept with her. She was comfortable. She kind of felt like home. And home was what he needed that night just over a month ago after his mother had passed away and his father decided to make his first appearance in over a year. He needed to feel something. Wanted. Needed. So he let himself fall into bed with a childhood friend he knew had always harbored a small crush for him. He ignored everything inside of him that told him it was a terrible idea and would only complicate things further, just so he could be consumed with the feeling of being adored - even if it was under false pretenses and only for an evening._

 

_He was so starved for affection of any kind, that even that one night with a girl felt like a drug._

 

_But that was over, and now he was about to possibly ruin an important friendship, a small piece of home, because he was selfish and too deeply buried in the closet and his own self loathing to allow himself to be a decent human that night._

 

_Emma wasn’t Sana - a person he surrounded himself with as frequently as possible. A friend who shared his desire to push himself academically and called him on his bullshit daily - but she was a part of him in many ways still. He even loved her a little bit. Would fight someone for her if it ever came to that. And although they lived their separate lives in the school hallways, he was still the person she text late at night when her parents were fighting and she needed to get away._

 

_So of course his stomach twisted the moment she walked out of his bathroom wearing his worn Jesus t-shirt and navy sweatpants and sat next to him on the couch. He’d fucked up. There was no doubt in his mind - and what made this so difficult was the part of him that genuinely cared about her. The part of him that found her lovely, inside and out, and wished he could go back in time and do this differently so that he had a chance of keeping her in his life. Because he needed her and she needed him._

 

_People need people._

 

_They both sat facing each other, legs tucked under themselves and resting their sides against the back of the couch. It was quiet for a while, just the tapping of raindrops pelting the window, both of them staring at each other, silently acknowledging the weight in the room but seeming to understand that the silence was necessary - for just a moment longer._

 

_She bent her elbow and put her arm on the back of the seat, resting her head on it gingerly and forcing out a small smile. She looked pale._

 

_“Are you ok?” He adjusted the ragged throw blanket so that it was covering both of their laps._

 

_“Mmhmm. Just been a little sick these days.”_

 

_He looked out the window behind his couch, mindlessly pulling at loose threads on the blanket, and counted to three, slowly and purposefully, before he blurted out the next words._

 

_“I like boys.”_

 

_He kept looking out the window, kept pulling at the threads and let the silence become heavier. Afraid to look over at her, wanting to keep her for a little longer. Knowing that once he saw the hurt and anger on her face, she wouldn’t be his anymore and it’d all be over._

 

_“I know.”_

 

_Her voice was gentle and he could hear a small smile in it. So he chanced a glance, and her head was still resting against her arm, and she still looked a little pale, but her green eyes were wide and round and bright, and somehow filled with adoration. Her lips were pulled into a close lipped smile, the kind that looked forced on most people, but on her it looked natural and genuine._

 

_“You had a bunch of porn open in your tabs on your phone once when you let me borrow it. And then another time you told me to call for pizza and you had the Grindr app just sitting there on your homepage. Were you even trying to hide it?” She was giggling and his brain was short circuiting._

 

_“I’ve never even used Grindr! I just had it because—“ he sighed, “I don’t know.” He let his chin fall on his arm in exasperation._

 

_She laughed harder, it was full and high and had a small rasp to it - it was his favorite laugh actually._

 

_“Seriously Isak? I just told you I’ve known about your secret this whole time, and your response is to defend your nonexistent use of Grindr?” She’s quieter now, but still smiling._

 

_They stay silent for a little longer. It’s no longer heavy, it feels calming now. It makes him feel brave._

 

_“What I wanted to tell you was that I was sorry.” He raked his hand through his hair, pulling slightly to feel just a little pain. “I used you that night and—“_

 

_“I used you too.” She was looking out the window now. Eyes focused somewhere else, small shadows from the raindrops running down the glass etched on her skin. “I knew and still let it happen. Told myself maybe you were bi. Rationalized it a million different ways because I needed to get out of my head for a little while and wanted to be touched.” She shrugged, as if her words weren’t dripping with pain._

 

_He reached out to grab her hand, but she pulled it away before he could. The rejection stung._

 

_“Isak, I’m pregnant_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don’t be shy with the comments - anxious to know your thoughts!
> 
> I’m [PinkSkam](https://Pinkskam.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr.  
> 🖤


	2. Chapter 2

******_NOW_ ** ****

**__________**

 

 **To:**[ **I.Valtersen@hi.no**](mailto:I.Valtersen@hi.no) **  
****From:**[ **E.BN@Nordnes.skole.no**](mailto:E.BN@Nordnes.skole.no) **  
****Subject: RE: My daughter, Emmy Valtersen**

 

 **Mr. Valtersen,** ****  
****  
**Thank you so much for reaching out. I’d be happy to sit down and meet with you to discuss any concerns you have regarding Emmy. I’m available this afternoon at 14:00. Let me know if this works for you and I’ll schedule you in.** ****  
****  
**Regards,** ****  
****  
**Even Bech Næsheim** ****  
**Principal** **  
** **Nordnes Skole**

 

**__________**

 

Isak does a double take at the signature, remembering the letter that was sent out to parents over winter break explaining that Mrs. Landvik had taken a sudden leave of absence and that the students would be introduced to a new principal when they returned. He sends his reply confirming the appointment for later and quickly puts his phone on vibrate to silence the unmistakable chime of his Grindr app, which had been going off for the last several minutes.

 

It was a recent impulse to reinstall it a few evenings ago when he found himself desperate for a hand other than his own to get off to - and he had regretted it immediately, remembering why he never really got too involved in the Grindr culture to begin with.

 

There had definitely been the few times before Emmy was born that he’d utilized its services - enjoying the new found freedom that came with being young and out - exploring and experimenting while he could. Eventually though, the novelty wore off and his thoughts were consumed with the impending cloud of parenthood that was looming over his head.

 

As Emmy got older and his responsibilities became more routine he had ventured back out into dating, however, there is nothing like the label of _Single Gay Dad in His Early 20’s_ to ward off any possible matches. There wasn’t a long line of 22 year olds eager to gain a precocious 4 year old in their life.

 

But there had been Kristoffer. A few years older than Isak and fresh out of Law school, Kris, on paper, was the perfect man for him. Goal minded and responsible, talkative and charming, and more importantly still - he cared for Emmy.

 

He did.

 

It’s something Isak tries to remind himself of during the few times he allows his mind to dwell on the demise of that relationship after only six months. Because Kris _did_ care for Emmy - he just couldn’t handle his world being turned upside down after she was diagnosed.

 

He wanted to be partner at his practice and make his way up the corporate ladder. He wanted the big city apartment and the cocktail parties. He loved the late nights at the office and the last minute meetings. He wanted his GQ cover life - and he could have it; he just couldn’t do that and be what Isak and Emmy needed at that time. What they would continue to need for the years to come.

 

Isak understood, he truly did - but it still stung like hell. It hurt to feel like he would never be someone’s first choice. It hurt to know and be aware of this, yet still find yourself resigned to the fact regardless. It was a pathetic way to live and feel - but those were the consequences living a life full of loss brought. Because although his father was back and an active part of his life, Isak could never ignore the reminder that regardless of what was going on now, once upon a time he _had_ left him. Who’s to say he wouldn’t do it again?

 

And then there was Emma, whose slippery slope into addiction while she tried to cope with her own dysfunctional parents and the demons that plagued her after giving birth, led to an untimely overdose, leaving him with a three year old who looked just like her.

 

Because sometimes people left him because they wanted to, but sometimes they left him even when they didn’t have a choice. He was just the kind of person you left.

 

And maybe he’d be willing to put himself out there more if it didn’t mean the very real possibility of Emmy’s heart breaking in the process. He would take every beating, every painful stab of a ripped out heart if he had to - but he couldn’t watch his kid bear any of that as well. Not when she’d already mourned the loss of her mother, and at times, her sense of control.

 

So there had been Kristoffer, and one failed blind date attempt afterwards - and that was it. It was him and Emmy for the time being. They had made it this far, there was certainly no reason they couldn’t continue to.

 

-

 

The wet sliding sounds of the infrequent car driving over the sleet covered streets outside, made its way through the large arched windows that sat behind a sleek white desk, neatly ordered and sporting miniature decorative musical instruments along with a tabletop zen garden.

 

There was the faint sound of a xylophone playing through some speakers, an upbeat tune offset by the calm melodic tone of the instrument, and the once yellow and red walls had now been painted a soft grey. There were thick black frames arranged in symmetrical patterns around the walls, black and white photographs of scientists and artists throughout history within them and manipulated in humorous ways. Isak recognizing a picture of Albert Einstein with his tongue out - an ice cream cone, the only object in the photograph in color, sitting in front of his face as if he were about to lick it.

 

He lets out a humored breathy sound. It was cute.

 

The entire office had been transformed, and even if Isak hadn’t been a frequent visitor in this room, a passerby could see the vast change.

 

A once bold, bright, and loud room now housed a dusty blue shag carpet adjacent to the large desk, where pillows, books and puzzles were neatly organized as well - an obvious respite for children who may find themselves here from time to time.

 

Isak thought about his own kid and her frequent visits here, suddenly feeling at ease with the idea. There was nothing more irritating and stress inducing than getting called to the principal's office - even if you were at fault - but now some of the chaotic feelings in your head had the opportunity of quieting. At least that’s what this current space felt like it was trying to achieve.

 

The tall glass paned door behind him opens with a soft _whoosh_ , and a deep voice begins speaking before the person makes their way in front of Isak.

 

“Mr. Valtersen, so sorry to keep you waiting.” Isak stands up, turning around to introduce himself. He blindly extends a hand out before pausing and detracting it when he takes in the man in front of him.

 

_You’ve got to be kidding me._

 

-

 

**_THEN_ **

 

**____________ **

**_Sana_ **

**_16:51_ **

 

**_He’s not here yet.  
I’m coming back home. _ **

 

**_You’re still 10 minutes early._ **

**_Nice try._ **

 

 **_I told him I’d be wearing a blue  
_** _**shirt, but this one is more teal.**_  
_**I should come home and change.**_

**_He made the reservation. They  
will take him to the right table. _ **

**_How many more excuses are  
we gonna try?_ **

 

 **_I feel like Bug would want  
_** _**at least one more. Make it a**_  
_**solid three.**_

__

**_Your sense of humor is weird._ **

 

 **_He’ll probably just bail after your  
_** _**first attempt at a joke and you’ll**_  
_**be off the hook.**_

**_Yeah, don’t tell her I said that._  **

**_Also, I know you’re just being an  
ass, but I’m gonna do it…_ **

 

**_Whatever._ **

**_Emmy and I are waiting for  
your last excuse._ **

 

**_Are you actually relaying our  
conversation to my 6 year old?!_ **

**_This is why she talks like a teenager!_ **

 

 **_She’d like me to inform you_  
** _**that she turns 7 next week, and**_  
_**would prefer for you to refer to**_  
_**her as 7 starting now.**_

 

**_Yeah, that’s not happening._ **

 

 **_She would also like to  
_** _**remind you that her IQ is**_  
_**higher than yours.**_

 

**_What does that have to do  
with this conversation?_ **

 

**_Nothing._ **

**_She just wanted to remind you._ **

 

**_You’re not allowed to hang  
out with my kid anymore. _ **

 

**_Cute._ **

**_We’re waiting on that final excuse._ **

 

**_I’ll take you both out for  
sushi tomorrow._ **

 

 **_That’s not an excuse, it’s a_  
** _**bribe. And a terrible one since**_  
_**you already promised us a sushi**_  
_**date.**_

**_You’re really not good at this._ **

 

**_Which is why I should just leave now._ **

 

 **_Go and enjoy your date.  
_** _**Even’s a good guy, I swear.**_  
_**I only know good people.**_

 

**_Really…?_ **

 

 **_That was an accidental compliment_  
** _**for you.**_  
_**Don’t let it let to your head.**_  
_**I regretted it immediately.**_

 

**_Too late. It’s all I’ll ever  
think of from now on. _ **

 

 **_We’re making cookies and  
_** _**then going to eat all of them**_  
_**before you come home, so**_

 

 **_I’m gonna advertise for a new  
_** _**best friend. I’ll start taking**_  
_**applications immediately.**_

**_Tell bug I love, love, love her._ **

 

**_She love, love, loves you too._ **

 

**____________ **

 

_He put his phone away, reached for his beer, and tried to ignore the menacing voices in his head taunting him over his need to be set up on a blind date at 24 instead of meeting guys at parties like normal people his age._

 

_As he finished chugging down the last swallow, he momentarily worried about the impression he’d make when his date arrived and realized he’d already gone through one drink before the night had even begun. He tried for a quick scan of the room, looking for a trash bin he could toss the bottle into, but found none within sight. Not exactly the kind of place where you get up and throw your own trash away._

 

_The restaurant was a brand new establishment, having just opened up that month in the city centre. It had been rumored to be booked with reservations for the next three months due to the hype behind the chef who opened it. A Jamaican transplant premiering a Caribbean fusion restaurant with a high price point. It was a daring risk in a town like Bergen where the open faced fish sandwich reigned supreme - even if the chef did have some international notoriety. But the interest was there and the reviews were impressive._

 

_Almost as impressive as being able to reserve a table for a blind date that was only arranged a week prior._

 

_He gave up looking for a place to dispose of his beer bottle and decided to shove it to the side of the table, as out of sight as it could get. If this guy wanted to make a premature judgment based on the one drink, then Isak could call it a night and maybe get home before all the cookies had disappeared._

 

_“You must be Isak.” A soft deep voice appeared beside him and he looked over to find a tall blonde, impeccably dressed in crisp, slim navy blue trousers and a fitted white v-neck shirt - only the front tucked in behind a tawny brown leather belt._

 

_He extended his hand out and Isak took it, giving himself a moment to collect himself as he took in the azure blue eyes and soft, slightly unkempt hair, while the other man sat down._

 

_“Were you waiting long?” There was a steady rumble to his voice while he picked up the menu, never looking away from Isak and attentively waiting for his answer._

 

_“No. Got here about ten minutes ago.” It’s a small lie. He’d arrived closer to twenty minutes ago, but it’s all semantics when his date looked like that._

 

_He was rewarded with a blinding smile - genuine and warm - and Isak felt his shyness creeping through, a characteristic that had more or less been suppressed since having another tiny human living in his house that he constantly had to speak up for._

 

_Well, that’s not entirely true - Emmy does a pretty good job at advocating for herself. It’s her lack of filter they need to work on._

 

 _He took in the man in front of him as he ordered a drink and appetizer for the table, charismatic even as he spoke to the server. Isak wasn’t ashamed to admit that he was shallow enough to desire an attractive appearance as much as inner substance. His own looks and age made him the ‘Hot Dad’_ _by default, and he allowed for the ego boost - the only thing giving him a self esteem lift some days. And right now, the man in front of him was definitely worthy of a second glance._

 

_And third and fourth._

 

_So Isak resolved that just for the time being, Emmy didn’t have to occupy his thoughts._

 

_-_

 

_He wanted to say that this was the best date he’d had in a long time, but in truth, that statement wouldn’t hold much weight as he hadn’t seen anyone since he and Kristoffer split. But regardless - it had been a wonderful date. Incredible enough that he’d just agreed to continue the evening after dinner with a walk down by the wharf in search of more cocktails and some live music._

 

_Even was enigmatic and it came through in the last two hours spent over savory food and international beer. He was full of life and assertive in all the right ways, yet balanced with a docile and puppy-like demeanor. He inquired about Isak’s research at the Marine Institute and listened with rapt attention as he spoke of the need to understand the migratory patterns of the endangered mammals he studied - a topic no one else but his colleagues, daughter, (and on a good day), Sana - found interesting. In return, he told Isak of his ambitious double major in teaching and psychology and how even now it’s something he still couldn’t believe he accomplished._

 

_He inquired about Isak but didn’t push when he gave short and sometimes surface answers, still too gun shy to divulge all of his personal life - something that Even just seemed to understand and respect._

 

_It was a good night. It had been a very good night._

 

_Until it wasn’t._

 

_Until Isak, feeling brave and emboldened by Even’s openness into his own life, inquired about the reason for his split with his ex - a long and serious relationship he had mentioned ended a year ago. It was fine until Even responded casually by saying, “She wanted kids and I didn’t.”_

 

_And then it wasn’t fine anymore._

 

_The air suddenly seemed to be sucked out of the room, feeling like a vacuum while the edges of his vision darkened and became cloudy. Sounds seemed to mute themselves even as he could see Even’s lips still moving in conversation and the once heightened sensations of the evening became dull and Isak was numb to it all._

 

_Because of course Even didn’t want kids. He was 27 and enjoying the excitement of his career and new found singleness. He was sexy and smart and outwardly carefree. Why would he want to invite the heavy responsibility of parenthood into that world, let alone the weight that came with raising a neurodivergent child. He was surrounded by kids in his professional life, he certainly didn’t need them crowding his personal life as well._

 

_So it had been a good evening, until it wasn’t._

 

_It wasn’t Even’s fault, even though Isak did resent him his ability to speak so freely on a subject so incredibly sensitive to Isak. A resentment he allowed to push forward past the rational and understanding thoughts in his head and take control instead. A resentment that pushed him to quickly fumble for his wallet, pulling out enough cash to cover their meal and tip, and throwing it on the bill that Even had been reaching for to pay._

 

_He let it consume him so he didn’t feel the need to give an explanation when Even’s expression changed from relaxed and content to worried and confused. So he didn’t feel obligated to assuage him when he asked what was wrong. So he wouldn’t feel the current agonizing crack making its way down his heart right now, next to the countless other ones that had formed over the years. Each chip and fissure bearing a different name and title, not yet shattering him, but keeping him in a constant fragile state._

 

_It was resentment that took him home and pulled the brave face when Sana asked why Even was texting her worried about him - allowing him to give her a detached response that she didn’t call out for the bullshit that it was._

 

_Resentment was a powerful tool sometimes._

 

_But Isak wasn’t built to bear that, and as it turns out, guilt was stronger._

 

 _It was guilt that made way for tears when he walked into the kitchen and saw a plate of three cookies with a note scrawled out on a napkin in marker that read:_ **_DADDY_ ** _._

 

_It was guilt that walked him up the stairs to Emmy’s room, quietly sitting down on the floor beside her bed where she slept and watched her restlessly kick off one of the pillows she lined up next to her every night. It was guilt that ebbed in and then out, receding and making room for love as he pushed back at the tangled mess of hair curtaining over his daughter’s face, knowing that even if he could go back and change everything when he was 17 - he wouldn’t._

 

_Because a life without this perpetually sassy thing was something he couldn’t be less interested in, even if that meant saying goodbye to all the Even’s he would ever meet._

 

_Deep breath in. Slow breath out._

 

_1, 2, 3._

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m [PinkSkam](https://Pinkskam.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr.  
> 🖤


	3. Chapter 3

******_NOW_ **

 

Isak does his best to smooth his features and make up for his initial reaction, somewhere registering that he’s failing miserably at it, but still managing to sit back down as Even gestures for him to. The taller man eagerly taking a seat himself in the chair next to Isak instead of sitting behind his desk.

 

Even’s expression seems genuinely pleased, almost excited, with the current situation he finds himself in, making Isak uncertain of his own dread. Making him question whether or not his confusion is in fact the most appropriate reaction.

 

“Mr. Valtersen—“

 

“Isak is fine.” He isn’t going to make it through this conversation if Even is referring to him so formally.

 

“Of course.” He smiles softly - knowingly. “Isak.” He leans forward, elbows resting on his legs and hands clasped together as he continues. “How have you been?”

 

His words and tone are so unfeigned and sincere, and it’s all a little unsettling. Because while Isak is still reeling from the shock of having to now deal with the issue of his daughter’s behavior with the very man he walked away from because she could never be a part of his life, Even appears relaxed and unphased

 

Isak is surprised yet Even seems unmoved, and before he can't think to stop himself before he speaks his thoughts.

 

“Why don’t you seem as surprised to see me?” He grips the arms of the chair as he inwardly flinches, knowing he didn’t answer his question and not caring a whole lot either. He realizes, for a fleeting moment, that this is where Emmy gets it from - her inability to think before she speaks.

 

Even sits back in his seat, crossing and uncrossing his legs, suddenly nervous, chewing his bottom lip in thought for several moments before releasing a resigned sigh.

 

“You were the only Isak that worked in the Mammalogy department at The Marine Institute.” He ducks his head briefly and Isak sees a pink bloom forming on his cheeks. “I looked you up after our date that night.”

 

He says it like he’s been thinking about it for the past seven months since Isak walked out of that restaurant with no explanation. And Isak - for his part - shamelessly swells at the thought of Even wanting to find out more about him, knowing he wouldn’t have received any more information from Sana, who, as irritating as she can be, was also fiercely loyal and wouldn’t have divulged any more information to Even without Isak’s consent.

 

 _“I thought you should get to decide how much of your past you want to share.”_ She had told him resolutely the next day when he was with-it enough to discuss the events from the previous night.

 

Even straightens back up, running a hand through his hair and causing the professional wall to crumble with the casual movement. His demeanor changes to something almost childlike as he speaks with a hint of humor. “As it turns out, Valtersen isn’t a common surname.” He’s quiet for a moment, staring at a spot on his desk while the small curve of his lip continues upward into a full blown smile, finally looking back at Isak. “Plus, she looks just like you.”

 

 _She._ The reminder of who he’s here for and what that means. It snaps him out of his momentary hypnosis brought on by the presence in front of him, and his response is purely reactionary.

 

“She looks like her mother actually.” It’s cold and detached and he isn’t even sure why he feels the need to correct him over something so trivial, but it seems to bring the focus back where it needs to be regardless.

 

Even seems unperturbed by Isak’s reply, clears his throat and moves on easily.

 

“I spoke with Mrs. Albertsen this morning. She seems concerned that Emmy is behaving without any regard to the consequences for her actions.”

 

Isak bristles at those words. He pushes forward in his seat to speak up but is cut off by Even holding up a hand to stop him as he makes his way behind his desk, opening up a document on his laptop as he continues. “But I’ve looked over her file and corresponded briefly with her therapist, Lette, who had some colorful things to say regarding her teacher.” He sighs out a laugh to himself at whatever conversation he is recalling. “But I'd like to hear from you. Why don’t you tell me specifically what your concerns are.”

 

He gives his attention back to Isak, eyes open and interested. It’s a little jarring, not automatically needing to be on the defense when it involves his daughter, but knowing he’s going to anyways out of habit.

 

He takes in a deep breath and lets out everything that’s been running through his mind since yesterday’s encounter.

 

“My concerns are that this classroom setting is doing more harm than good. She was placed with Mrs. Albertsen because this was the only school in the area that offered the advance teachings for children her age. She wasn’t thriving where she was before, getting into even more trouble then she does now, if you can imagine that.”

 

It’s true, his daughter has a special talent for finding trouble in the most obscure places.

 

“Lette is contracted out, so she meets with her wherever she is - but I’m having a hard time getting her teacher on board with understanding her OCD and working with us. At the very least, some goddamn empathy for this kid and her inability to control her compulsions would be appreciated!”

 

Isak takes a moment to settle when he hears his own volume, lowering his hands which had been waving in animated gestures as he spoke, and relaxes back into the seat he now finds himself on the edge of, speaking more calmly but with just as much fervor.

 

“Emmy can be a handful - I will be the first to admit that. She could probably work on her tact, among other things.” He inwardly rolls his eyes, knowing very well that lesson needs to start with him. “She’s irritatingly intelligent and also a bit of a smart ass from time to time.” He licks his lips and breathes in thoughtfully, mollifying himself from the agitation that comes when he feels like his daughter is at the burning stake.

 

“Her progress has been slow the last year or so - but it’s there, and removing her from this class suddenly will disrupt her routine and has the potential to set her back.” Another breath. “But I will be damned if I keep her in an environment where another student is allowed to bully her for her illness while a teacher stands by and lets it happen. And I’m certainly not going to force her into being the bigger person and apologizing to this kid when it’s been an ongoing issue. If Mrs. Albertsen is truly worried about whether or not Emmy is sorry for hurting another student you can tell her that I said she is, and that will have to suffice. In the meantime, some changes need to be made immediately.” He looks over at the corner of the large office where pillows and books are spread out in a serene nest. “She needs to feel safe here.”

 

It’s quiet and the air is hot with the energy and passion that can only come from advocating for someone you love. His skin prickles as he cools down and looks up at Even - and he finally sees him. He’d been looking before but was too wrapped up in his own words to really _see_ him. But now he does. And it’s almost too much.

 

How one person can emote so much through a _look_ is unnerving and Isak squirms slightly in the chair.

 

Because Even’s face is full of thought and consideration. It’s agreeable and understanding. There’s the small evidence of surprise and also pride.

 

Even shakes his head, a small movement, almost as if just now coming back into the present and out of his own thoughts.

 

“You’re absolutely right.” He clicks a few things on his laptop and looks back at Isak. “Lette will be back tomorrow. I’ll speak with her and see if we can’t figure something out that will aid Emmy along the way she needs to. And I will sit down with Mrs. Albersten personally to discuss the classroom environment she is creating as well.”

 

His face is serious at the mention of Emmy’s teacher, and Isak can tell that he means it, that he will keep his word. It brings a comfort he hasn’t felt in a long time.

 

Seeing no need to stay any longer, Isak stands up and Even follows suit, walking from behind his desk and leading the way to the door, where he can see the back of a small head full of brown tangles through the double glass paned doors.

 

He steps out into the quiet front office and is immediately assaulted on his legs and hips by the set of skinny little arms attached to his daughter. He takes a step back to brace himself and keep them both upright.

 

“Dad, finally! I’m starving!” Her voice is dramatic and deep, exaggerating her words further.

 

Isak rolls his eyes and rearranges the backwards maroon snapback on her head.

 

“Hi Mr. Bech Naesheim.” Her tone is cheery as she peeks from around her father, arms still tightly wound around him, to greet Even.

 

“Hey kiddo. Did you feed my fish yet?” He tilts his chin up, pointing at the silver framed fish tank sitting outside his doorway.

 

“Yes. Two pinches of flakes, not three.” She responds thoughtfully. Seriously. And Isak warms at the gesture, seeing it for what it is - a small task and sense of responsibility, but something she can manage and control. He lets the feeling move inside him, almost filling in a few minor cracks in his chest. Almost.

 

He’s interrupted by Emmy mumbling under her breath. “I mean, at least someone’s getting fed around here.” He looks down at her and she raises her eyebrows in challenge.

 

His own lift right back at her, coupled with a pointed stare.

 

“This passive aggressive attitude needs to find a new place to live before we get into the car.”

 

“ _Ugh_ , fine.” She turns around to pick up her backpack then grabs his hand with a smile and eagerness - attitude disappearing and suddenly replaced with sweet compliance.

 

He tugs her into his side and she nuzzles her face into his hip with a blush.

 

She can be a pill most days, but it makes these soft moments even more warm.

 

He turns to Even, and finds him still staring - almost fond.

 

_Right._

 

“Thanks for taking the time to meet with me.” He extends his free hand out to shake and Even accepts it immediately, long fingers curling around his own and holding on for maybe a beat too long.

 

“It was my pleasure.” He blinks. He Smiles. He breathes. He’s still holding Isak’s hand. “Look forward to seeing you again.”

 

“Yeah— of course. Yes.” He’s rambling.

 

“Dad, you’re staring.”

 

_Shit. Fuck. Emmy don’t—_

 

“Is it ‘cause he’s pretty?”

 

_Oh. My. God._

 

“Talk to you soon.”

 

And he’s pushing his daughter out of the building, but not before she scandalously says, “What? It’s not my fault you like to stare at pretty things.”

 

-

 

The tinkling of piano keys fills the upstairs of the house and enters into his bedroom a bit muted as Emmy plays the overpriced electric piano his father bought her for her birthday last year. An interest she picked up from a visit to Oslo when his step mother Ina, inherited an old upright from a deceased family member. Emmy spent the entire visit stationed at the instrument, pressing keys until they made sense. She wasn’t a musical savant, but found it fairly easy to pick up melodies by ear. His father and Ina thought anything she did was the second coming of the Lord, so they had been more than eager to shower her with the gift. Isak took a little more convincing, that is until he realized it kept her hands busy when she felt anxious energy running through her and needed to expel it somehow.

 

It was easy to get on board then.

 

The clear and discernible notes of _‘Will You Be There’_ reach his room. A Michael Jackson song she heard while watching the film _‘Free Willy’_ one evening over a year ago. The notes were a bit choppy, but she always started with this song until she decided to move on.

 

Isak found the habit comforting, and he hummed along while opening up his phone to go through work emails.

 

**__________**

 

 **To:**[ **I.Valtersen@hi.no**](mailto:I.Valtersen@hi.no) **  
****From:**[ **H.Simonsen@hi.no**](mailto:E.BN@Nordnes.skole.no) **  
****Subject: Team Opening in Tromsø**

 

**Isak,**

 

**Our Tromsø facility has received some funding for a research team primarily based on what you’ve been working on. They’re looking for another member to lead the team along with their current director so I sent them your project proposal to look at. This is all informal right now, but I wanted to get it on your radar. The project won’t begin until the end of the year and would be a great opportunity for you.**

 

**Just consider it this time.**

 

**Best,**

 

**Herman Simonsen**

**_Sr. Director of Mammalogy Research_ **

**_The Norwegian Institute of Marine Research_ **

 

**__________**

 

Isak shuts off his phone, tossing it next to him on his bed, and leans back against his headboard, scrubbing his face with his hand as he does.

 

This is the second offer his boss has extended to him regarding a professional move forward. And it will be the second offer he turns down, much to his director’s disappointment. Herman has been the most understanding supervisor he could have found himself under during these formative years of his career. A single father of three, he’d been a mentor to Isak in more ways than just professionally.

 

Isak rubs a small circle on the sensitive spot just above his left eye where he can feel a headache forming.

 

Uprooting the life he has settled into with Emmy was daunting, yes, but not impossible and not the exclusive reason for his denial of these promotions. It would be tedious for sure, but doable - if it was _just_ about making that move.

 

But it was more. It was always more.

 

Developing new routines could be done fairly seamlessly with enough preparation and Lette would provide excellent referrals to replace her, he’s sure of it - but they wouldn’t _be_ Lette.

 

Strike one.

 

Then of course there would be the frequent visits he’d have to make up to Tromsø - consulting with the board and preparing the team so that, come years’ end, they could dive into the project head first. Overnight visits that would be closer to last minute rather than well thought out and planned - something he absolutely could not accommodate at the moment.

 

Strike two.

 

Because part of dealing with OCD meant also dealing with anxiety disorder. It was practically a rule and not an exception. And Emmy’s bled over into severe separation anxiety, something that use to visit much less frequently when he had his dad and Sana at his disposal - but that’s no longer the case.

 

Strike three.

 

His dad remained in Oslo with Ina, successfully running the same finance company he’d been with since Isak was born. He came to Bergen often for visits, unable to stay away from his granddaughter for too long, but he was no longer a phone call away for a quick night of babysitting when and if Isak needed him.

 

And as for Sana, she’d left to Stavanger several months ago to pursue her own professional advancements, not only leaving him without any options for someone to pick up Emmy from school if he was running late, but also leaving him without anyone to call to come over at night after Emmy was asleep just so they could order takeout and bitch about office gossip.

 

In many ways, after Sana had left, it almost felt like becoming a single dad all over again. Sana had just always been there. From Emmy’s birth to their move, both pursuing their masters degree in Bergen. The only reason he was as relaxed in his parenting as he was, is all due to the influence of his best friend.

 

Well, that and trial and error.

 

Isak worries too much, over analyzing everything and troubling himself over the _what if’s_ in life, but Sana was always around to recite the only mantra that got him through most of Emmy’s younger days:

 

_“Don’t try and micromanage a toddler, Isak. The only one who will end up in tears is you.”_

 

And dammit, if that wasn’t the best advice he’d ever been given.

 

Except that it had eventually developed into _Don’t try and micromanage Emmy. Ever._

 

So instead of giving himself a tension headache because his 5 year old was fighting him on what to wear to school - he just sat back and let her wear the silver and pink sequin dress with the ripped skinny jeans and too-big snapback.

 

It didn't matter that he cringed and worried other parents and teachers would judge his parenting abilities. Because when it came down to it, his spitfire of a kid would verbally assault them if she got wind of it. Probably something along the lines of ' _the heavy burden and standards society puts on the appearance and behavior of girls and how toxic it is to perpetuate that way of thinking’_.

 

Maybe not in so many words— actually, probably _exactly_ in so many words.

 

Either way, if Isak disapproved of it, then Sana wholeheartedly encouraged it - much to Emmy’s delight - so it didn’t matter anyway.

 

Was the outfit hideous to look at? Without a doubt.

 

Did it match? Not even close.

 

Was it worth the sweat and tears that early in the morning? Absolutely not.

 

Isak learned to roll with the punches. Kids tend to bring a lot of those with them, and Emmy more than most.

 

But it was those days, when he snapped a sneaky picture on his phone of his daughter’s latest and greatest ensemble and text it to Sana with a quick _‘Look what you created.’_ that he missed her even more.

 

Or when Sana would respond back with _‘Tell Bug her dress isn’t flashy enough.’_  and sent a picture of herself in a decked out hijab and bright colored lip - just for work.

 

Yeah, he missed her even more then.

 

The music coming from Emmy’s room changes and he can hear her switch to the keys higher up on the piano - mimicking the sound of a lullaby as she begins playing something new. A few more keystrokes and his stomach twists when he recognizes the lyrics and hears her raspy voice begin to sing along.

 

He quietly walks out into the hall, pausing outside her door to listen to the song he hasn’t heard in a few years.

 

**_Oh I’m in pieces, it’s tearing me up, but I know_ **

**_A heart that’s broke is a heart that’s been loved_ **

**_So I’ll sing Hallelujah_ **

**_You were an angel in the shape of my mum_ **

 

The Ed Sheeran song was a staple in their home about a year after Emma had passed away. Isak had read every book and website there was on how to handle grief in children and his daughters predisposition and affection towards music, thanks to her mother, is what lead him to that particular coping mechanism. Emmy preferred it when Isak would sing to her, but eventually she took to playing the song on her iPod and singing it herself.

 

**_When I fell down you’d be there holding me up_ **

**_Spread your wings as you go_ **

**_And when God takes you back, he’ll say_ **

**_Hallelujah, you’re home._ **

 

She sings the last line one more time, more gently, before ending the song. He listens as it grows silent in her room, not hearing any signs that she may be crying, but quietly wiping the stray tears that made their way down his own face.

 

This is the second time this week that’s she’s brought up her mother with little to no warning and he can feel the Emma shaped crack in his heart grow a little wider, a little longer, each time.

 

Once again, the music changes abruptly as she starts playing a different tune, one he doesn’t recognize. Confident that she’s okay, he makes his way back to his room, chest a little heavier and eyes a little wetter.

  


**_THEN_ **

 

_The smell of chai tea greeted him as he stepped through the front door of his apartment, immediately he called out to Emma as he dropped his backpack and shrugged out of his jacket and shoes; each item landing haphazardly somewhere in the hallway, a heaping mess in the entryway that would be forgotten until it’s contents were needed again._

 

_He made his way through the small two bedroom apartment, looking in the kitchen and living room for the source of the warm aroma but found none._

 

_“Emma?” He called out again and this time heard movement from the bedroom, before the low growl of her voice responded._

 

_“In here Iss.”_

 

_He walked through the door and found Emma sitting in her bed with his Jesus t-shirt stretched over a swollen belly, one hand resting just below her navel and another holding an earbud just above it. He climbed in next to her, instinctively reaching out and absently rubbing circles onto her abdomen - a habit he’d fallen into when she first started showing._

 

_The day he found out Emma had been pregnant was filled with an anxiety he’d never experienced before. He listened with a pounding heart as Emma explained that she was just over a month in, and had it confirmed by her doctor a week prior. He nodded along while she spoke earnestly about her choice to keep the baby - a decision she had gone back and forth with for two weeks on her own. He sweat through her speech about how she didn’t want him to feel obligated to be a part, and he broke a little when she held his hand and told him that it would mean a lot to her if he did anyway._

 

_He was seventeen._

 

_What business did he have being a parent? He had no real example as to what being a present father should look like and now he was pushed into a role he never thought he’d occupy. He panicked through the following days as he settled on his decision to raise his child. Scenarios of dropping out of school and finding whatever job he could get in order to provide some semblance of a life for his kid. And then he sagged with relief when he shamelessly leveraged his father’s guilt in order to help him and Emma along. A task that wasn’t as difficult as he’d anticipated - the man jumping at the opportunity in front of him to be a father again - or, for the first time._

 

_It was how he ended up in this apartment with Emma - her taking one bedroom and him splitting the living room into one of his own so they could still have a nursery. It was why he came home today exhausted from school instead of from a job he hated but put up with in order to get a paycheck._

 

_Guilt really was powerful._

 

_Emma pressed a button on her phone, shutting off whatever song had been playing and removing the earbud from her belly._

 

_Isak kept his hand on her, circles turning to figure eights as he wondered if the baby could feel the motions he was creating, making a mental note to Google it later. The entire idea of a baby growing inside of Emma was equal parts gross, terrifying, and fascinating - and Isak had thrown himself into finding out everything he could for both of them._

 

_“I thought you were having dinner with your parents tonight.” He swirled his fingers over her belly, figure eights transitioning to the outline of a whale and ocean waves._

 

_She placed her own hand beside his, holding herself protectively as she spoke._

 

_“Mom’s popping pills again.” He turned to her and saw a sad and resigned smile on her face. “And dad doesn’t care - again.” She rolled her eyes with a sigh, leaned her head on his shoulder, and he adjusted so he could rest his own on hers. “Left the house before I even took off my shoes.”_

 

_He took her free hand in his and ran through several different things he could say to try and bring comfort, but in the end chose to say nothing. Emma’s home life had been about as dysfunctional as his own - both of them always able to seek comfort in the other and know that there was healing in the silence as well._

 

_They stayed that way for a few minutes before he released her hand to tug on the hem of the shirt she’s wearing._

 

_“When will this shirt see my body again?” He felt her shoulders move in silent laughter._

 

_“You’ll have to ask bug, she likes it.” He watched as she rubbed her hand over her belly at the comment._

 

_“I don’t think she has a preference to the clothing you wear.” He rolled his eyes but smiled down at the rounded shape beneath the shirt._

 

_“Psh. This kid definitely has a preference when it comes to clothing. Trust me. I’m carrying her.”_

 

_“I literally have no rebuttal to that, and I know that’s why you used it against me.”_

 

_“Iss, I promise you, if you ever get pregnant you can use the ‘I’m carrying your child’ excuse whenever you’d like.” Her expression was smug and he wasn't humored._

 

_He moved away from where he was sitting, removing the pillow from behind Emma because he knew it would irritate her, dodging a shove to his shoulder as he adjusted himself so his head was on her lap and he was facing her belly._

 

_They were 26 weeks pregnant and had found out the gender of the baby nearly two months ago, but still hadn’t decided on a name. The two of them had agreed that the gender was kind of arbitrary at this point and there wasn’t a name that stuck out to either of them that felt right. So they weren’t rushing it. Instead constantly reverting to calling her Bug because that was what Emma insisted she felt like when she first started moving around inside her._

 

_Isak still hadn’t felt her move yet - and wasn’t sure he’d enjoy it, freak out, or both._

 

_He reached up and placed a hand on the side of Emma’s abdomen, thumb moving back and forth while Emma’s eyes fluttered closed at the movements. He leaned his face forward so his nose grazed over her belly and he breathed in the sent of chai tea and cinnamon that had become synonymous with Emma. He hummed a nameless melody, pursing his lips a little and pressing a small kiss over the t-shirt she was wearing before pressing another kiss, and then another._

 

_When Isak thought about his future, fatherhood had never been apart of that vision - especially not as a teenager. He never allowed himself to decide if it was something he even wanted - didn’t even entertain the idea - because it was something he never thought he could have. Never thought it was something he was capable of. So the idea of feeling connected to this tiny thing that he couldn’t see was an emotion he didn’t have a language for. It felt simultaneously foreign and comfortable. It was something he didn’t understand until it just happened - and even then, explaining his love for his baby was as simple and complicated as saying: ‘I love her. I just do.’_

 

_“Sing something Iss.” Emma’s voice was sleepy, and he could tell without looking over at her that her eyes were still shut._

 

_He didn’t say anything, just settled his head back on her lap._

 

_“Please?”_

 

_And it was that word and her tone that did him in. The presence of desperation in her voice, because she was having a bad day and needed to feel calm. Needed to be soothed. Bringing forward memories of when they were younger and she’d come over after a fight between her parents, she would ask him to sing something to her so she couldn't hear the voices of her parents screaming anymore - and he would, every time._

 

_He kept his hand where it was and turned further in to face her belly, inhaling deeply before deciding on a song he knew would calm Emma. Picking up from the chorus, her favorite part of the song..._

 

_“I’ll be your Emmy-Lou, and I’ll be your June_

_If you’ll be my Gram and my Johnny too_

_No, I’m not asking much of you_

_Just sing, little darling sing with me.”_

 

_“Again, Iss.”_

 

_“I’ll be your Emmy-Lou, and—“_

 

_He stopped suddenly and sat up, lifting his hand from Emma and looking at her, his eyes wide with shock._

 

_She looked back at him in surprise._

 

_“You felt that?”_

 

_“Of course I did! She just tried to assault me!”_

 

_Instinctively, he placed both hands back on Emma’s stomach, pressing down and singing the first line of the song again. Mouth pressed so closely to the space in between his hands._

 

_“I’ll be your Emmy-Lou, and you—“ he felt the pressure of her foot meet his hands once again, and he let out a gasp and a laugh this time, expecting the movement but still being thrilled at the feeling. He pressed his forehead in between his hands as he continued with the song, the timbre of his voice shaking a little as it filled with emotion. “—no, I’m not asking much of you. Just sing, little darling sing with me.”_

 

_Three more kicks against his palm and he thinks that he’ll never stop singing if he can talk to his baby like this. So overwhelmed by the buzzing of emotions racing through him - some new and without a proper name yet. But each of them swelling his heart with each moment that passes by._

 

_“Just sing, little darling sing with me.”_

 

_Emma’s hand came to cradle the back of his neck, and she rubbed her thumb on the soft spot behind his ear. He let the action ground him for a few moments before dragging his face along the t-shirt she was wearing to wipe the tears he hadn’t realized escaped - surprised by his emotional reaction. He sat back up and they settled back in next to each other, her head on his shoulder and his resting on hers._

 

_“I’m not even the one with extra hormones running through my body.” He let out a forced laugh, an attempt at alleviating the heaviness of the moment - but Emma didn’t let him._

 

_“You’re gonna be the best dad, Iss. I know it, and so does she.” She paused, almost daring him to refute her claim, but he didn’t. Still lost in the rhythm of her feet against his palms._

 

_“Iss…”_

 

_“Hmm?”_

 

_“I want to name her Emmy.”_

 

_“Me too.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m [PinkSkam](https://Pinkskam.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr.  
> 🖤


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW in the End Notes.

******_NOW_ **

 

“Dad, I think i’m dying.”

 

Isak looks down at where Emmy is lying on the floor just outside the bathroom door in his bedroom, arms and legs star fished out dramatically.

 

He steps over her heading towards his closet, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes and mumbling a quiet, “It’s too early for this shit.” as he rifles through his shirts for work.

 

“Swear jar!” She’s upright in a flash, running and throwing herself onto his bed with a bounce. His own body too fatigued to properly react to the whiplash of his daughters sudden movement and change in mood.

 

He grabs the teal sweater Emmy says he wears too often and throws it on the bed next to his child before going back to find a pair of pants that don’t need ironing, his back to Emmy as he speaks.

 

“I’m not putting money in the swear jar if I was manipulated into cursing by someone rude enough to antagonize me this early in the morning.” He turns around, reaching for a pillow and tossing it at her face - his daughter letting out a surprised shriek and bubbling with laughter.

 

He remains in front of the bed crossing his arms. “And I’m definitely not putting money in the swear jar when I know for a fact you’ve been using a few four letter words behind my back.”

 

She stills, giggles dissipating as she moves the pillow away, peeking out from behind it with guilt painted all over her face.

 

“You heard?”

 

“Emmy, I was in the kitchen while you two were arguing over that dumb project, of course I heard.” He sends her a pointed look, seeing her expression change as she recalls the day Simen had come over to finish up the team assignment that neither of them could agree on. Forcing Isak to entertain her classmate’s mother for three hours too long that day.

 

“Did you just call my science project dumb?”

 

“Did you just try to deflect the subject?”

 

They stare at each other for a few moments - their typical standoff, but Isak waits for her to speak up first. They both know she isn’t winning this time.

 

“Permission to try a different angle?” She tilts her head to the side, squinting her eyes in an irritatingly cute expression.

 

He motions with his eyebrows for her to continue and she takes a deep inhale, speaking with all of the bravado she can summon.

 

“Aunt Sana says that the emotional expression behind—” He shakes his head, holds a hand up to her and watches as her mouth hangs open comically at being interrupted before she could deliver her argument.

 

“It’s in everyone’s best interest for you to stop right there if you want me to maintain my relationship with your aunt.”

 

She purses her lips out in thought, squinting up at the ceiling as she decides her next move.

 

“So, on a scale from ‘ _dogs chasing their own tails’_ to _‘baby laughing uncontrollably’_ , how cute do I have to be right now in order for you to forget about this?”

 

“Try _‘Kittens cuddling each other in their sleep’_.

 

She gapes at him. “Dad!” She throws herself back on the bed dramatically, his Jesus t-shirt she wears as a nightgown bunching up above her knobby knees. “Literally _no one_ can do that.”

 

“That’s the point.”

 

He motions for her to stand up on the mattress, and she does, walking over to the edge and standing in front of him; her hands resting on his shoulders and his own meeting around her tiny waist. She was still short for her age and all elbows and cheeks; her body taking after her mother’s slim silhouette and still not yet catching up from being born two months premature.

 

“Do me a favor and limit that section of your vocabulary to _damn_ and _dammit_. You’re seven years old—“

 

“Seven and a half.” She replies back with a wide eyed stare and a little shake of her head, as if the statement is the most obvious rebuttal.

 

He pinches her chin playfully. “That’s a weak argument. Especially for you.” He waits for her to bite back with something witty, but she remains where she is, tugging lightly on his earlobe absently. “Don’t grow up so fast, Bug. It’s not as exciting as it seems.”

 

“You always say that.” Her face is serious, none of the humor or exasperation it usually holds when she uses that line.

 

“I know, and I’m really smart so you should listen to me.” She shrugs, but he sees her resolve fading rapidly and something tight within him goes on alert. “Why are you up so early? You robbed me from the daily joy of waking you up against your will.”

 

“Couldn’t sleep.” Her voice trembling a little as she sucks in her bottom lip, eyes downcast as she murmurs the words out - a failed attempt at playing down something that they both know is serious.

 

He brings her in close, wrapping his arms around her fully, and pressing his forehead to hers - her eyes glistening and wide, looking back at him as she brings her hands to his cheeks, squeezing just a little.

 

He catches the wrinkle in her forehead before she throws her face in his neck, wet lips moving against his skin as she speaks.

 

“I couldn’t sleep daddy—” She stops herself, shaky breaths coming in a little too quickly.

 

He lifts her up and she immediately wraps her legs around his middle, latching onto him so hard that he isn’t even bearing her weight with his arms. He turns to sit on the bed, marveling at her ability to go from _Strong-Independent-Woman_ to _Desperate-Needy-Child_ in seconds.

 

He presses his palm to her back and rubs wide soothing circles.

 

“Bug, tell me what’s going on in that pretty head of yours.” It’s a line Emma used to use when Emmy would cry and was too little to speak or articulate her feelings. A desperate attempt to understand the distress her daughter was in at any given moment. A question he’s since adopted as his own now that she is able to form her feelings into words.

 

She doesn’t say anything. but he feels her breathing begin to labor and his shirt tightens at the collar from her fisting it tightly in her hands. He presses his palms in between her shoulder blades, giving her deep pressure and encouraging her to take a deep breath. Whispering “Breathe baby.” and rocking her subtly, hoping to catch the attack before it can escalate any further, calculating the time they have before they have to be out the door for school and work.

 

“Are they going to kick me out of school?” Her words a wet whimper against his skin.

 

“Emmy, no. Of course not. What makes you think—“

 

He feels her body shudder with cries before he hears it and he jumps into action before he even realizes what he’s doing. Forcing her arms and legs away from him, he turns her around in his lap, pulling her back to him and wrapping his own arms around her chest to press deeply.

 

Her cries turn to wails and then hyperventilating with no warning and he lies them both on their side, curling himself around her rigid body - stiff with fear - and holding her tight against him, maintaining the deep pressure while repeating a chant of “Deep breath in Bug.” and “I’ve got you. You’re safe.”

 

He’s mindful of the pinching in his own chest, his heart distraught over the scene of Emmy’s panic attack unfolding in front of him, and he reminds himself to breathe slowly and stay focused.

 

The numbers on the oversized digital clock sitting on his bedside table change, his eyes fixed on the digits - tracking the time as she starts to regulate her breathing.

 

Inhaling; holding it in; exhaling slowly.

 

He counts out loud for her, encouraging her as she begins to relax, and remains consistent even when her heart rate picks back up again and they have to start all over.

 

The air in his bedroom is warm with the intensity of the situation; a chorus of labored breaths, wailing cries, and whispered comfort fills the four walls.

 

The clock changes. He counts. They breathe.

 

The clock changes. He comforts. They breathe.

 

The clock changes. He holds her. They breathe.

 

Eighteen minutes pass before everything is still. Her pulse has slowed down and there’s the frequent sniffle from her runny nose. She begins to squirm, her arms weakly wiggling for freedom from where they have been trapped between his hands and her chest. He loosens his hold and they lie there a little longer - Isak spooning his daughter while her breathing continues to regulate - stray hiccups coursing out of her as he runs a soothing hand through her knotted hair.

 

He watches every small twitch and movement of her body, registering the rise and fall of her chest to the slow blinking of her eyes and he can see how exhausted she is, how torn-through her body is from the entire ordeal. How her body and brain seem to be trying to catch up with one another. Sees the deep frown etched into her face and he knows that today he’ll be working from home.

 

Isak slowly moves, attempting to locate his phone so he can send an email to his boss, but she grabs him by the forearm before he can roll over.

 

“Not yet.” Her voice panting just a little, out of breath from the action

 

He settles back around her, hearing the enormity of strength it took for those two words to be spoken, curls his body back around her tiny one, presses his lips to the shell of her ear with a kiss, and then - he sings.

 

“I’ll be your Emmylou, and I’ll be your June.

If you’ll be my Gram and my Johnny too.

No, i’m not asking much of you.

Just sing, little darling sing with me.”

 

He rests his chin on her head as she pushes back into his neck, not turning around, so she can feel the vibrations of his voice as he sings.

 

“Again daddy.”

 

He repeats the words, slowing it down the second time around.

 

She sighs, breathless and tired.

 

“One more time.”

 

And he sings it, of course, for the third time.

 

 

-

 

After settling Emmy in his bed, medication given and pillows surrounding her, he pulls out his laptop and sends an email to Lette and her teacher explaining her absence, then opens up his work inbox and begins sorting through and prioritizing his responses. His daughters soft snores a white noise as he works.

 

He opens a spreadsheet, every intention to complete the data input, but his eyes glaze over and the screen becomes a blur of letters and numbers - distracted with thoughts of Emmy and his phone call with her principal - Even - a few days ago.

 

It wasn’t a long call; just an attempt to schedule a time for them to sit down with Mrs. Andersen and Lette to discuss the best plan for Emmy moving forward. It was still two days away, but found Isak becoming anxious with the wait, especially given this morning’s episode. And truth be told, some of his own concerns came from the fact that regardless - he didn’t have a solution either.

 

He thinks back to the moments before her episode this morning, when she asked if she was being kicked out of the school. Wondering what had happened that a thought like that could take root in her mind. What was said to make her think that was something anyone was considering.

 

He looks over at her limp body, heavy with sleep as her chest rises and falls slowly. The fallout from her attack coupled with her medicine keeping her in a deep slumber for a couple more hours. He knows that sometimes these episodes are triggered by _something_ \- and sometimes it’s just her brain not functioning correctly, forcing her into fight or flight mode without understanding why. He knows that she is smart and aware enough to have more than a decent understanding of her diagnosis and how it is out of her control some days - but he also knows that her intelligence and awareness are a double edged sword and it drives her crazy not being able to reign in her compulsions - the anxiousness of anticipating her compulsions causing more to come. That she becomes indignant when her anxiety picks up and she doesn’t have a clear cut answer as to what is causing her to feel this way. And he knows that with all of this, comes an acute kind of self loathing - one he’s witnessed on her too many times to feel comfortable - and something no seven year old should be experiencing so heavily.

 

So he can sit here, and speculate until he’s blue in the face about who said what to his kid to make her think that her school would kick her out for something out of her control - it’s easier to lay blame on faceless people, after all - but it’s more likely, that it was a seed she planted in her own head because she didn’t think she was good enough, and somehow Isak missed it all, and the roots dug through a little too thoroughly.

 

And _this_ was just the anxiety disorder portion of her diagnosis. Living with OCD is so much more than needing your hands to be clean or liking your space tidy and organized. It’s more than needing to count to three before you do anything trivial or important. It was living in your head and fearing that if you _didn’t_ perform your rituals, something detrimental would happen. These fears weren’t always easy to articulate. For Emmy, if she doesn’t complete her rhythms or counting in multiples of _threes_ , she truly believes that something terrible will happen. Maybe death. Maybe Isak will get hurt. Maybe she will get hurt. Sometimes she can articulate these fears, and other times she cannot.

 

But her need for two pillows around her as she sleeps isn’t just a cute tick because it’s seems like an orderly way to do something. Her saying _I love you_ three times wasn’t just an endearing thing for a child to do. Her incessant need to tap over her chest as she counted wasn’t just a habit formed out of boredom. For people with OCD, these rituals and compulsions are the only things they can do - they _must_ do - to keep their anxieties and fears from coming to fruition.

 

And sometimes it’s as obvious as a tap on her chest as she mouths to herself _‘One, two, three. One, two, three. One, two, three.’_ And other times it’s a guessing game and constant state of worry for Isak, watching to see if she’s counting to herself in her head and working herself into a spiral even if it’s not plainly visible to anyone else.

 

It was a full time job and he was constantly still learning and working on being more aware.

 

He exhales deeply, adjusting the blankets around her more loosely as he can see her beginning to sweat. A chime goes off and he looks back to his laptop as an instant messenger window opens up in his inbox.

 

**__________**

**Even Bech Næsheim**

 

 **Hi Isak. Lette just informed me**  
**that Emmy wouldn’t be in school**  
**today. Is she feeling okay?**

 

**__________**

 

Isak stares at the blinking cursor in the window prompting him to respond. There was a jump in his pulse, a staggered feeling in response to the idea that Even would be reaching out over something so seemingly trivial. It wasn’t uncommon for him to receive a response back from Lette checking on Emmy if he had to keep her home for any reason - even if it wasn’t on her therapy days - but Mrs. Landvik had never gone out of her way to correspond with Isak about an absence. Although a lovely woman who enjoyed her role as principal and beloved by most students and parents, most of his engagement with her had been reserved for the days Emmy found herself in the office for being unable to stop running her mouth. So, he really didn’t have a precedent for this.

 

Another chime goes off indicating Even’s message and Isak quickly mutes his laptop before reading.

 

**__________**

**Even Bech Næsheim**

 

 **I know it’s flu season, and she**  
**had a bit of a sniffle yesterday.**

 **I offered her tea when she came**  
**to feed the fish, but she declined it**  
**on the grounds that it’d be**  
**useless without real lemon and honey.**

 

**__________**

 

Isak snorted, able to hear his daughter saying those exact words without having been there himself.

 

Sana’s influence.

 

And maybe a little bit of his own as well.

 

**__________**

**Even Bech Næsheim**

 

 **I’m sure you’re busy, but let me**  
**know if you need anything.**

**Not the flu. No worries. Emmy**  
**practically schedules both of our**  
**flu shots each year.**

 **Although, there is definitely a**  
**runny nose still present.**

 

**__________**

 

As if on cue, he hears her shift and sniffle next to him. His hands hover over the keyboard, contemplating how much he should divulge - eventually deciding on full transparency. They’re about to discuss all of this openly in two days anyway.

 

**__________**

**Even Bech Næsheim**

 

 **She had a pretty severe panic**  
**attack this morning. Wiped her out.**  
**School wasn’t really an option today.**

**Ok, understood.**

**Poor kiddo. How is she now?**

**Sleeping.**  
**Par for the course after an episode.**  
**The medicine doesn’t help either.**

**I can understand that.**

…

 

**Oh.**

**Well, I’m sorry she insulted your**  
**offer of tea. She does that sometimes.**

**I swear, we are working on her filter.**

**Genuinely, no apologies needed.**

 

**She wasn’t wrong.**

**What good would flavored**  
**water do without the honey**  
**and lemon to coat and soothe?**

**She doesn’t need to hear that**  
**she wasn’t wrong.**

**Keep that tip in your back**  
**pocket at all times.**

**Hahaha!**

**Well, be that as it may, she’s my**  
**favorite student in the school. She**  
**has earned a little leeway.**

**You have a very cool kid Isak.**

 

 **I agree with you, (don’t tell her that)**  
**but I’m almost obligated to say that.**

**And maybe a little biased as well.**

**You’ve known her two weeks Even.**  
**I’d watch out how tightly you get**  
**wound around that finger of hers.**

**I’m a little biased too.**

**And, noted. But probably too late.**

**...**

**Anyways, unless something else**  
**unplanned happens, she will be in**  
**school tomorrow.**

**Thanks for reaching out**

**Of course.**

**I’ll see you Friday.**

**__________**

 

Isak closes his inbox, not wanting to be tempted to reply with something dumb like _‘Yep, can’t wait. Looking forward to it!’_ Because how stupid would that make him look?

 

The meeting itself is a point of stress for Isak, yes - but it might also be nice to see Even again. It’s definitely an _interesting_ development - his blind date from half a year ago now being a semi constant presence in his life by way of his daughter.

 

Even, with his broad shoulders and taught arms. His large hands and long fingers, intricate patterns of veins and lines etched in the creamy skin of his palms and knuckles and wrists. Broad boyish grin and lagoon blue eyes that exude youth whenever he smiles. Legs that went on forever it seemed, and a height to match the all consuming and captivating presence he radiated.

 

And lips, god those lips. Full and pink and plump. Textured with chapped skin in some places and darkened red in others. A mouth made to dominate and overwhelm and Isak wanted to be on the receiving end of that.

 

And to add insult to fucking injury - Even was good with kids. Great with them. And not just any kid - _his_ kid. A couple of weeks and he understood her in ways her own teacher couldn’t seem to grasp. And Emmy, she brought him up in conversation without prompting.

 

_“Today Even had—“_

 

_“Mr. Bech Næsheim.”_

 

_“Fine. Today Mr. Bech Næsheim came to the cafeteria and had lunch with me. He said he wanted to sit with our class, but he sat next to me, so..”_

 

_“Don’t be smug Emmy.”_

 

Or

 

_“Even kind of—“_

 

_“Mr. Bech Næsheim.”_

 

_“Ugh. Mr. Bech Næsheim kind of reminds me of Lette. I think they should date.”_

 

_“What?! Emmy, that’s none of your business. And Lette has a boyfriend,”_

 

_“Nope, not anymore. She’s a single Pringle.”_

 

_“Huh?”_

 

Or

 

_“Even told me that his favorite number is three.”_

 

_“Emmy James Valtersen!”_

 

_“What? He literally told me I could call him Even!”_

 

Or

 

_“Dad, do you think I should be a psychologist?”_

 

_“You should do whatever makes you happy, Bug.”_

 

_“Even said he wanted to understand his brain more, so that’s why he went to school for it, but…”_

 

_“But what?”_

 

_“I don’t know if I want to understand my brain.”_

 

The last two years had been a bit isolating for Emmy. Her diagnosis made it difficult for her to have friends over, unable to handle the possibility of disruption within the symmetry she created for herself at home and too apprehensive to trust herself knowing she couldn’t control those things at someone else’s house. Just the fear of the anxiety it would cause was enough to make her keep to herself.

 

She felt more at ease with adults, but even those relationships were complicated. She could converse with them in ways her peers couldn’t, causing both her and the adult to forget her age sometimes. But she tended to place a safe distance between herself and them - like someone who’s been jaded from years of being hurt - a trait that didn’t fit a child. Yet, more frequently then she realized, the little girl in her who desperately wanted and needed to be protected and looked after would seek the approval of her elders, and most times she didn’t know how to reconcile those feelings together - so she usually ended up saying something out of line and getting herself in trouble.

 

But with Even, none of those usual hurdles seemed to exist. She trusted him and liked him and, more importantly, she felt safe around him. And how else was that supposed to make Isak feel, if not absolutely over the moon for one of the few humans on this earth able to earn that from his daughter. Emmy was a lot of things: irritating and bratty chief among them - but she was also an excellent judge of character, even if she didn’t always understand how she came to those conclusions.

 

So yeah, maybe Isak was easily swayed by Even’s beauty - but he felt validated in those thoughts by his daughters acceptance of him.

 

And still, absolutely _none_ of that was helpful.

 

Because no matter how much he told himself that his time with Even during their first meeting could be interpreted as professional flirting, _(is that a thing?)_ , and no matter how great he seemed on paper - Isak had to remind himself of one thing - Even didn’t want kids. There was no way he could twist that to make it work in his favor. Isak was saddled with Emmy for the rest of his life and it wasn’t something he could change. It wasn’t something he’d ever want to change either.

 

There’s a soft sound, and he’s pulled out of his internal spiral by the small movement - looking over to see Emmy awake, eyes focused up at the ceiling and hand resting on her chest as she taps it three times, waits a beat, and repeats the action over and over. He gives her a moment, waits to see if she’ll stop on her own, and when she does, he closes his laptop and scoots down, letting her push the pillow out of the way and wrap herself around him.

 

She wipes her nose on his shoulder and he lets out a grunt.

 

“That’s gross. You’re gross. Stop being gross.”

 

Tired mossy green eyes look up at him and he sees a small smile creep its way across her face, as she shrugs her indifference.

 

“Are you hungry?”

 

She shakes her head but doesn’t look away.

 

“Thirsty?”

 

She shakes her head again, but sighs, knowing he’s going to insist she drink some water and eat something anyway. They both sit up, and she holds her arms out until he picks her up and carries her downstairs - not looking forward to when she’s no longer light enough to make this easy, and fearful for the day she no longer needs him to regardless.

 

-

 

The garlic soup is heating up on the stove - Emmy’s favorite and homemade from a couple nights ago - and he can hear the muted insistent sound of tapping on the counter behind him where Emmy is sitting on a stool at the breakfast bar. A silent whisper accompanies it as she counts the taps to herself, and he’s torn with whether or not he should try to employ some of the skills Lette has her working on or let it go until she decides to end it.

 

He ignores it for the moment, giving his focus to the pot in front of him as he thinks about how this is always one of the toughest parts about being the parent of a child with OCD - knowing when to embrace it for the neurobiological disorder that it is and understand that her brain works differently, and when it’s time to divert her attention elsewhere. He never wants to invalidate her diagnosis and he never wants to be the cause of her compulsions increasing or becoming more severe. It’s a tightrope walk that he’s never certain he is balancing correctly, and it’s always times like these that he wishes Emma was still around.

 

A gentle boil begins rocking the soup in the pot, a quiet disruption to the once calm surface as he lowers the heat and ladles a small portion into two bowls, carrying them over to where his daughter sits, careful to center hers right in front of her with the spoon set beside the bowl on the right instead of dipped inside, and the napkin on the opposite end.

 

The final set of three taps finishes, her shoulders relaxing and tension seeping out as she takes in the symmetry of the lunch in front of her. He waits a few more moments for her to begin eating before digging into his own meal. An inadvertent sigh escaping both father and daughter as they take in the first swallow, the smooth heat making its way through Isak’s chest and into his abdomen, warming him throughout.

 

The soup is a bit arduous to make homemade, having to peel and roast too many bulbs of garlic, squeezing the contents out of their paper shells after removing them from the oven while creating a mess of sticky fingers and countertops. But Emmy enjoys assisting and they both love the taste of the garlic with coconut milk - it also happens to be Isak’s go-to meal whenever one of them is under the weather, effectively zapping whatever germs are attacking their immune system at the time.

 

The silence in the kitchen extends for several minutes, nothing but the occasional scraping of a spoon against a bowl or the gross wet noise of Emmy sniffing a runny nose while Isak scrolls through his phone, marking more emails to respond to for later. There’s another sound of sniffling beside him before he puts his phone down and pushes his napkin towards her.

 

“For the love of god, blow your nose. Why are you so gross?”

 

She takes the napkin and lets out a loud blow into it before crumpling it up and successfully tossing it into the trash bin across from her.

 

“I don’t know. Why are you so mean? Aren’t you supposed to be checking on me and petting my head, or whatever normal parents do when their kids are sick?”

 

“Normal parents? Petting your head?” He sips from his water, not bothering to hide the smile in his voice, pleased with the sarcasm and bite from his daughter - an obvious sign she’s feeling more like herself.

 

“Yeah.” She pushes the empty bowl away from her, resting her elbow on the counter and her head into her hand - annoyed and pointed expression aimed at Isak. “Normal parents don’t ask their children to say _damn_ and _dammit_. And when their kids are sick, they pet their heads.”

 

“Like this?” He takes his hand and drags it over her head and face, muffling her protests as she tries to pull away. “What’s wrong? Am I not doing it right?” He continues to _pet_ his daughters face. Her protests turn to a giggle before she pauses long enough to lick his palm.

 

“God, you’re so gross!” He wipes his hand on her shirt exaggeratedly, high pitched giggles turning into full blown laughter. He grabs their bowls and gets up to discard them into the sink. “And to clarify, I never _asked_ you to say damn or dammit. Don’t make it sound like I’m begging you to say those words.” He catches her rolling her eyes out of his peripheral vision and inwardly rolls his own. “I’m just saying that if you absolutely feel the need to curse, then those are the only acceptable options.”

 

He washes his hands while his daughter hums to herself, chin resting on her arms.

 

“How much work do you have to do today?” Her voice is a little distracted and the shifting of her eyes down by his feet tells him she’s counting the planks of their wooden floors.

 

“A shit ton.”

 

Her eyes dart up to his, mouth dropped open in genuine surprise and he mentally pats himself on the back at his successful distraction - trying not to feel too guilty at utilizing a swear word in order to divert his seven year olds attention.

 

“Dad!” Her gasp is as dramatic as she is, but he just shrugs.

 

“What? That swear jar isn’t going to fill itself. Do you, or do you not want to stuff your pockets with cash at the end of the month?”

 

“You know, you could just give me an allowance like a normal parent.”

 

“Or I can swear freely, eat the cost, and enable your spending habits.” He dries his hands with the dish towel on the counter, pink pigs printed on the fabric - a Christmas present from Emmy when she was four years old and Sana took her out shopping for his gifts. A smile creeps up on his lips as he recalls his bewilderment at opening the present and her expectant and excited face when he earnestly expressed his love for it - Sana not bothering to hide her laughter beside him. There was also a pig-printed hoodie, bathroom rug, and lamp that followed - all of which have a permanent residency somewhere throughout their home.

 

“Why aren’t you normal?”

 

“I don’t know. Why do you insist on ordering pizza with pineapple on it, only to decide after one bite that you still hate it?

 

She blinks her eyes as she considers her father.

 

“Touche”

 

“Yeah.” He heads out of the kitchen. “That’s what I thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Panic attack in a child.
> 
> -
> 
> When Kim showed me the finished product of this scene - I cried. It was always such an important scene to me, and the way she captured it, is so unbelievably moving. So lovingly and tenderly done. Seeing Emmy in Isak's Jesus t-shirt being held by her father after an episode pulls at every string on my heart - and I hope it spoke to you in some way.
> 
> You can see the art on her [Instagram](https://www.instagram.com/p/BuqKmEJBJ5V/?utm_source=ig_share_sheet&igshid=gv60wppyb5h5) and [Tumblr](https://kkhymmmm.tumblr.com/post/183260448993/for-this-years-skambigbang-first-drawing-for). 
> 
> Comment below and let me hear all of your thoughts. This was our favorite piece to collaborate on. <333
> 
> I’m [PinkSkam](https://Pinkskam.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr.  
> 🖤


	5. Chapter 5

 

Screeching squeaks of countless tennis shoes sliding against the basketball court and echoing off the walls assault his ears as he opens the door to the gymnasium. He takes a quick scan of the room before he finds what he’s looking for.

 

Emmy is in the middle the court, the two Dutch braids that he meticulously made in her hair this morning now a wild and loose mess hanging off her shoulders. Her hands rest on her knees as she crouches down, focusing on the game of flag football happening around her, nose scrunched up in irritated concentration.

 

A whistle is blown by the after school teacher acting as referee, and a loud commotion of complaints ensues, his daughter straightening up and throwing her hands in the air.

 

“Are you kidding?! What the—“

 

“Emmy!” He calls out to her, effectively grabbing her attention and jogging over to her before she can say or do anything that will be cause for another parent teacher meeting. 

 

Her eyes catch his, quickly looking back at her team before mumbling something under her breath and walking the rest of the way to Isak, cheeks flushed with splotches of pink and red from physical exertion and frustration.

 

“Hey.” He looks down at her, trying to gauge her stress level.

 

“Hey.” The word is breathed out as she leans forward, forehead resting against his stomach.

 

He runs his hand over the back of her head, grimacing a little at the sweat he finds there.

 

“I was just coming to tell you I’m headed to the meeting and I’d be by to pick you up after, but—“

 

“Can I come with you?”

 

“—if you wanted to come with me and wait outside Even’s office, you could do that.” He continues talking despite her interruption.

 

She pushes off of her father, running to the bleachers where her backpack is carefully resting against them and ripping the red plastic flagged belt off of her waist, throwing it on the ground in annoyance.

 

She shoulders her bag with a grunt as he stands behind her, turning around to meet his gaze.

 

“What?”

 

“Do you have a hat or something?”

 

She shifts from one leg to the other, adjusting the weight of her backpack. “Yeah. Why?”

 

He lets his eyes wander over her hair, matted with sweat in some places and falling out and frizzy in others.

 

“It’s just,” He makes a gesture with his hand around her face and head. “You’re kinda hard to look at.”

 

She raises her eyebrows unamused.

 

“You’re the worst.”

 

His shoulders shake in silent laughter, and she grabs his hand anyway as they make their way to the front office.

 

-

 

Isak straightens the papers in front of him, organizing everything into separate piles before adding them to the large binder he has filled with documents for Emmy regarding her diagnosis - including school and therapy. He takes a few soothing breaths, enjoying the quiet of Even’s office as he walks Mrs. Albertsen out, the deep reverb of his voice making its way through the open door as he speaks to someone in the lobby and bringing with it a warm comfort as it reaches Isak and sits comfortably on his chest.

 

He looks over one of the documents, taking in a few new steps that are being initiated as a part of Emmy’s new plan - most of it regarding her teachers approach, not only to his daughter but to the class as a whole. The biggest adjustment, however, is in the form of Emmy’s environment. Starting next week she will spend an hour and a half in the morning and in the afternoon, doing her work in Even’s office; accompanied by Lette on her therapy days, and by Even on the other two. The hope is that by eliminating distractions of stress during small, but routine, amounts of time throughout her day she will be able to focus not only on her studies but also be given a safe space to begin to utilize the therapy she’s been working on without the fear of other students mocking her if she ‘fails’.

 

So all in all the meeting felt hopeful. Well, mostly. 

 

There was the issue of the small scene he walked into earlier. Having just sat Emmy in the large chair next to the fishtank, he headed into Even’s open office to find the principal and Lette laughing over something one of them had said, both picking at a piece of cake on a plate between them oblivious to his presence. 

 

The petty part inside of him loudly cleared his throat as he feigned offense at the unprofessionalism, slightly enjoying the fleeting surprised look on Even’s face as he quickly brushed off crumbs from the small round table and discarded the plate into the bin by his desk.

 

Lette seemed unphased and greeted Isak as warmly as ever. He wanted to be irritated with her, but in addition to the fact that he actually loved her, he was also painfully aware of how ridiculous his instinct of jealousy was. One date with the man months ago didn’t constitute any sort of hold over him.

 

Not just a date - a failed date. One that he quite literally walked out on. So yeah, his jealousy was definitely misplaced.

 

_ Pull yourself together, Isak. _

 

A tight pull inside his chest takes him out of his thoughts before his body seizes and lets out a booming sneeze, quickly followed by two more equally as intense. A box of tissues is slid in front of him, and he mumbles a thank you before grabbing a few for himself.

 

“A very smart and reliable source told me that hot water with lemon and honey is helpful when you’re feeling sick.” Even is across from him now, pulling out a chair and sitting down - relaxed smile on his face. Emmy ambles in shortly after, hopping up and sitting comfortably on Even’s lap.

 

“It’s true.” She adjusts herself, settling against his chest. “I am smart.” 

 

Isak wipes at his watery eyes, taking in the ease of interaction between the two people in front of him, and blinking a few times as the two of them begin to thumb wrestle without speaking.

 

And well, maybe that jealousy isn’t going anywhere yet.

 

He closes the binder and places it into his leather bag without removing his eyes from Emmy and Even. “I’m not sick.” Even glances over, dubious expression on his face, before moving his attention back to Emmy who is placing more effort into winning then he is. “And I warned you about calling her smart when she can hear you.”

 

Emmy lets out a huff, head jerking towards her father. “How dare you?!” Even seizes the opportunity and pins her thumb down, winning the match and summoning another sharply drawn breath from her. “And how dare you?!”

 

Even shrugs with a tilt of his head. Relaxed smile blooming into a wide grin. “I win.”

 

There’s a mumble of words that sound a lot like, “If you consider cheating winning...” before she trails off and not so reluctantly rests her shoulder against his. Even laughs warmly at her petulant display of  _ no love lost _ and gives her a small bounce with his knee.

 

Isak takes it all in. Watches as her sulking attitude quickly disappears and she demands a rematch. Watches as Even obliges her enthusiastically, no sign of an adult just appeasing a child for the hell of it. Sees the exuberant expression on his daughters face when she wins, and giggles that raspy laugh he loves so much when Even immediately insists on the best two out of three. 

 

His leg bounces under the table as he lets his mind wander and enjoy what he sees. Lets his heart hope for a moment too long before feeling a paper thin tear in it when he acknowledges that this will never be anything more than his daughter’s principal going above and beyond because he’s a good guy who genuinely likes his kid. He admonishes himself for allowing his heart to want Even, (or want him as much as one date and a couple of weeks at Emmy’s school allows him), when Even doesn’t want him - at least not all of him and everything that entails. 

 

Even is allowed to want a child-free life, and Isak has no reason to shame him for that or hold him responsible for the painful squeeze in his heart that hasn’t stopped since Even walked back into his life a couple of weeks ago. 

 

He forcefully shakes himself out of his own thoughts before they can spiral any further, standing up and instructing Emmy to go put on her jacket. 

 

There’s a heavy silence in the office when she walks out, both men standing quietly. Isak averting Even’s gaze while Even seems determined to hold his, and a tension looming over their heads while Emmy can be seen just outside the door, not so silently, struggling to pull on her sweater and jacket. 

 

Even tips forward on his toes, rocking back on his heels and opening his mouth to say something, when a louder than usual grunt from Emmy makes its way through the doorway and into the office, both men giving their attention to the tiny and exasperated seven year old. Her grumbles are an endearing and amusing sound until several failed attempts at her zipper result in an irritated exclamation of, “ _ Dammit! _ ” and Isak wishes the floor would open up and swallow him.

 

Even snorts, actual spit flying out of his mouth, while Isak feels the heat of an embarrassed blush fill his neck and face, and glares at his daughter who is shameless, walking back into the office as if nothing is amiss.

 

“ _ Emmy James _ !” he grits through his teeth with as even of a tone as he can muster. It comes out sounding like a whine regardless. 

 

She looks at Isak, bewildered at the sudden use of her middle name, shifts her eyes to Even who turns around and pretends to shuffle some papers on his desk, before looking back at her father. 

 

“What?” 

 

Isak groans, finding the fight pointless right now and wonders, not for the first time, when he will master this whole parenting thing.

 

“Nothing.” He sighs the word out. “Come here so I can help you with that.”

 

He kneels down in front of her, struggling himself with the damn thing and trying not to let his own frustrations shine through as he feels Even’s eyes on him.

 

After several moments too long, he gives up.

 

“Forget it. You’re just going to the car. I’ll buy you a new coat this weekend.” She shrugs her shoulders and grabs his hand, tossing a farewell to Even before pulling him in the direction of the door.

 

“Isak, wait.” They both stop in their tracks, turning towards Even who is jotting something down before meeting them at the doorway.

 

“You should take my number. Just in case you ever need anything.” He hands Isak a torn piece of paper with his information scrawled on it. “It’s the same as before, but I wasn’t sure if you still had it. Sometimes I’m not in front of my computer, but I always respond to texts, so...” His awkward and uncharacteristic ramble trails off, hands shoved into his pockets with a sheepish expression, making him look younger than he is. 

 

It’s a nice look.

 

Isak pockets the paper, smiling a little at Even’s slight discomfort. “Thanks.”

 

“Hope you feel better.”

 

He rolls his eyes with a smirk before turning around to walk away.

 

“I’m not sick.”

 

-

 

Isak is sick.

 

He hates being sick. He isn’t under any illusion that many people enjoy feeling ill, but he is a special brand of insufferable and grumpy when he’s under the weather.

 

His intention for the weekend had been to stay in catching up on work and attempting to meal prep for the coming week - an endeavor he continues to try, and continues to fail at - but his plans were derailed when a short trip to purchase a new functioning coat for Emmy turned into a full day of shopping when he discovered the only thing growing on her were her feet, so now she also needed new tennis shoes and boots. Five stores and two full blown tantrums later - from both Valtersens - left him rushing to finish what little work he could fit in and no time to tend to the tickle and scratchiness in his throat - which finds him in his current situation: laid up on his bed, fatigued with a pounding headache, congestion so severe he wishes he’d never taken breathing for granted, and a cough that burns in his chest.

 

He’d managed to get Emmy to school this morning before heading into work, only to be immediately turned away as soon as he walked through the door - his overly accommodating boss sending him home with strict instructions to take the week off. 

 

_ “I mean it Isak. No answering emails either. I don’t want to hear from you until next Monday.” _

 

And that had been that. 

 

Somewhere in the back of his mind he knows he should probably drink some water, but his body hurt and he was too tired to get up from the comfort of his bed to make the trek downstairs to the kitchen. He burrows deeper into his pillow, attempting and failing at breathing through his nose and resigning himself to being a gross mouth breather for the foreseeable future. The sound of birds chirping outside the window in their homemade bird feeder lulls him to sleep - the last thought on his mind is that he should probably set an alarm so he doesn’t forget to pick up Emmy from school. 

 

-

 

A deep muted  _ thud _ drags him out of his deep, but restless, slumber, and a quick slow and forceful glance at his clock sets him into near panic as he realizes he’s over an hour late picking up his daughter. He wrestles himself out from under his sheets, skin damp and sticky with a sheen of sweat from his fever breaking while he slept, and thinks about reapplying some deodorant before quickly dismissing the idea in favor of getting out of the house and to the school as quickly as possible. He throws on whatever pants are discarded on his armchair and grabs his phone, checking the screen for calls from Lette, only to see several notifications from an unknown number and a few from Sana as well.

 

He makes a mental note to give her a call later, knowing he’s slacked a little on their chats and heads downstairs, unlocking his phone and pulling up Lette’s contact to call, apologize, and let her know he’s on his way. 

 

He pauses halfway down, thumb hovering over the green  _ Call _ button to the sound of voices coming from the direction of his kitchen. A different sort of panic sets in, something closer to fear, at the thought of someone in his home. His movements slow as he reaches the bottom step, turning the corner deliberately where the voices become louder and distinct.

 

Not just distinct - but unmistakable. 

 

There’s the high raspy laugh that undeniably belongs to Emmy, and the sound of cabinets being opened and closed followed by the deep soothing timbre of Even’s voice.

 

He quickens his pace, groaning a little internally at the incredible amount of energy his ill body has exerted in the last two minutes, and walks into the kitchen entrance where both his daughter and Even currently reside. Emmy, kneeling on a stool with his old maroon snapback lying perilously low over her eyes as she bends over the counter, sleeves rolled up to her elbows with both fists buried into a floury mess of dough. Even’s back to him, casually looking through cabinets while his daughter laughs on.

 

It’s a domestic scene that screams of an unfamiliar familiarity, and Isak wants to simultaneously run away and dive head first into it.

 

“I know you’re doing this on purpose, but it’s really in your best interest to tell me where to find the cups.” Even, closes one door, only to open another and find it full of baking ingredients.

 

“Dad is serious about how he organizes the kitchen. He says ‘ _ everything has its place, and every place makes sense’ _ .” She tilts her head, eyes wide as she recites the words he says so often. “It’s annoying to admit, but he’s always right.” Emmy rolls her eyes at her own admission, but the smile on her mouth belies any ill will and she dismisses it with a shrug. “Anyways, it’s more fun watching you do this. But if you stop for a second to think about it - where do cups make the most sense?” 

 

There’s a small moment of silence while Even contemplates the question, but Isak speaks before he thinks. 

 

“Next to the refrigerator.” 

 

He says it out of instinct - the words coming out like a croak from his sore scratchy throat - weary eyes still trained on Even as he spins around, mouth going from slack and open in surprise, to soft smile as his mind takes in Isak’s unannounced presence.

 

They both stare at the other - Even in fond amusement and Isak in resigned confusion. It’s not necessarily an uncomfortable silence - no tension to speak of - but it’s unusual given the context and location of the situation. Even is in  _ his _ home. In  _ his _ kitchen, allowing Emmy to tease him as he tries to familiarize himself with the room, but still at ease. 

 

As usual, Emmy speaks first.

 

“You forgot about me.” There’s no malice in her voice - just a matter of fact statement as she continues kneading the dough in front of her

 

“Fuck—“

 

“Swear jar.”

 

Isak walks the rest of the way into the kitchen, slowly leaning into the counter next to Emmy as his body is hit with a wave of fatigue, and glares at his daughter who at least has the awareness to look sheepish before focusing all her attention onto her task.

 

He turns his attention back to his unannounced visitor who has successfully furnished a cup from the correct cabinet, filling it with water and dropping in two slices of lemon - where he found those is a mystery to Isak. 

 

“I called you earlier and then tried your job, but they said you went home sick. And then you didn’t respond to my texts, I just went ahead and brought her home myself.” 

 

Isak just looks on, not responding, mostly out of a delayed reaction from his cold-ridden brain, so Even continues - stumbling over his explanation. “I asked Lette first, but she had another client she had to get to, and you’re on my way home, so—“ 

 

“And he made dinner. It’s in the oven.” Emmy’s interruption seems to relieve Even as he relaxes again, slow smile forming on his lips while he looks down and lets out a breath. 

 

“It’s just some stuffed shells. Should have enough for leftovers if you need them.” He looks back up, hand running through his hair and down his neck where it stays for the moment, rubbing out some tension. “I uh— I got you some soup too. It’s not homemade or anything. Just from the deli.” He pauses. Bites his lip in thought. “Well, I guess  _ they _ made it homemade—” 

 

Isak just stares. 

 

Stares at the bloom of pink spreading on Even’s cheeks and progressing slowly down the sides of his neck. Stares at the berry bitten stain of his lips where he’d just been worrying over with his teeth. Looks at the disheveled hair from where he ran his hand through and the rolled up sleeves of his now untucked shirt. Stares at his forearms, skin taught around slender muscle. Prominent veins peeking out from under the leather strap of his wristwatch and leading to broad hands and long fingers. 

 

There’s a moment of dizziness. A slight flare of light headedness, and a rush of warmth in his body. He closes his eyes. It’s probably the fever.

 

Probably. 

 

“I’m making pizza dough, in case you were wondering.” Emmy interrupts his thoughts with a layer of sarcasm in her voice. Isak takes the hint and gives her his, admittedly, divided attention. “Even says it can sit in the fridge for a few days until we are ready to make it. 

 

An alarm goes off, and Even’s head snaps towards the oven. Shutting off the timer before focusing back to Isak. “Here. This was for you. You should stay hydrated, and the lemon is good for detoxing the cold out of your system.” He pushes the glass of water across the counter and into Isak’s hands, turning back around and attending to the tray of dinner he just removed, setting it down to cool.

 

Isak feels too stunned to do anything. 

 

His daughter is next to him, hands buried in pizza dough, laughing to herself - probably at her father’s dumbstruck face - while Even busies himself around the kitchen, setting the table, placing dinner and drinks in front of plates, instructing Emmy to go and wash her hands while he covers the dough and sets it in the fridge. He watches the entire scene unfold and all he can do is drink the damn water. Gulping it down like it’s a lifeline and sighing heavily at the relief of pain it brings as the cold liquid coats his throat and soothes the burn there.

 

He tops up the glass himself after finishing its contents, turning around to find Even drying his hands on the pig towel and grabbing his keys off of the counter.

 

“Wait, where are you going?” 

 

It comes out harsher then he meant, but between the gruffness caused by his sore throat and the shock from the whole afternoon still being fresh - well, he’s not capable of much else.

 

Even pauses, caught off guard. “I was gonna head home?”

 

Isak takes two more swallows from the glass, setting it down in the sink with a chuckle he didn’t realize had been sitting at the surface.

 

“Even, put your keys down and have dinner with us.”

 

“No it’s fine really. It’s getting late and I just wanted to check on you—” He clamps his lips down for a moment, clearing his throat and tries again. “I wanted to make sure Emmy got home.”

 

Isak cocks an eyebrow at him, a wave of bravery washing over him at Even’s small admission.

 

“Hey Bug.” He calls out to his daughter, eyes never leaving Even’s.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Help me out please.”

 

He watches out of his peripheral as she turns her body in the chair to face the two men. 

 

“Even, stay for dinner. Dad is gonna get his way anyhow.”

 

A breathy laugh escapes Even’s lips, and Isak wishes he hadn’t gotten rid of his cup so quickly, needing something for his dry throat.

 

Even sets his keys back on the counter. 

 

“You two are dangerous.”

 

He stays for dinner.

 

-

 

And he stays for dessert. 

 

And he cleans up the kitchen, insisting Isak rest his body and sends him into the living room with a mug of hot water with lemon and honey while he finishes the dishes. And Isak is too tired to protest. Too tired to pretend he doesn’t find the idea of Even in his home anything but satisfying and pleasant. And tomorrow, or the next day, when he internally reprimands himself for letting any of this happen - allowing himself to feel hopeful for something impossible - he’ll blame it on the cold-ridden fog in his brain. But for now, he sits and he sips and he nudges his foot on Emmy’s arm where she’s sprawled out on her stomach next to him on the couch, disrupting her as she tries to turn the pages of her book and enjoying the irritated clench of her jaw every time he does.

 

“Sometimes it’s hard to remember that  _ I’m _ the seven year old in this house.” She doesn’t stop what she’s doing, stays focused on the words in front of her.

 

“I thought you were seven and a half.”

 

She looks up then. Glaring at him, but she’s too cute for it to really cut, and he just smiles cheesily as he takes another sip from his mug, enjoying the eye roll that follows, before setting it down on the side table and patting his lap.

 

“No way.” she deadpans. “You’re gross and sick.”

 

“I’m gross and sick because you were gross and sick first. We live in the same house, if you’re going to get sick again there’s nothing we can do at this point. Now stop pretending you’re grown and cuddle your gross sick dad.”

 

She’s laughing, crawling her way over to him and settling onto his legs, head buried in his neck. Her favorite position.  _ His _ favorite position.

 

“You’re so needy.” she mumbles into his shoulder defiantly but her arms squeeze around his chest even tighter.

 

“Mmhhm,” He hums his response, tucking her head beneath his chin and wrapping her up and relishing in the reciprocity of her snuggling deeper.

 

They sit there for a few moments. Quiet, save for the occasional close of a drawer or clatter of plates coming from the kitchen. He feels Emmy’s fist clench and relax in rhythms of  _ threes _ from where it’s trapped between their bodies, and he wraps his hand around the back of her neck, tapping in  _ threes _ with his thumb, just below her ear. Both her hand and his, in synch as they tap and squeeze..

 

_ 1, 2, 3. _

 

_ 1, 2, 3. _

 

_ 1, 2, 3. _

 

“Sorry I forgot you at school today.” he murmurs lazily, but he means it. His eyes stay shut as he holds his daughter, skimming his nose over the top of her head, suddenly angry at his cold for preventing him from breathing her in. 

 

Her fist and his thumb continuing their pattern.

 

_ 1, 2, 3. _

 

_ 1, 2, 3. _

 

_ 1, 2, 3. _

 

“I’m sorry I got you sick.”

 

“Yeah. I’m pretty mad about that actually.”

 

She snorts, sitting up and placing her hands on his chest, tapping above his heart as she speaks.  

 

_ 1, 2, 3. _

 

_ 1, 2, 3. _

 

_ 1, 2– _

 

“You’re annoying.”

 

He squeezes her waist, eliciting a shriek from her lips, smug smile on his own as he watches her shake her head because she already knows his response.

 

“I know.”

 

-

 

They spend a few more minutes bickering light heartedly before he covers her face in kisses and sends her upstairs to shower while he heads into the kitchen to get her medicine ready before bed.

 

Even is starting the dishwasher when he enters, and Isak’s confidence from earlier flees his body, leaving him trapped with his nerves and feeling the onslaught of fatigue that’d he’d been ignoring for the last hour. 

 

It wasn’t that he’d forgotten Even was still here, he just fell so nicely into the background of their evening that nothing felt out of sorts. And now, without his daughter or dinner as a buffer, he feels out of place in his own home. Dumbstruck still, as he watches Even lean back against the counter, facing Isak silently - smile arranged softly on his face. One of those smiles that is subtle but always there, even when the person is deep in thought. 

 

Isak doesn’t understand that sort of muscle relaxation. He has resting bitch face on a good day. 

 

The whir and buzz of the dishwasher breaks up the quiet, soon drawing out into a familiar white noise as the two men stand across from one another awkwardly, Isak lost in a million thoughts, and Even seemingly the same.

 

It’s Isak who speaks first.

 

“Thanks for bringing her home, and for dinner...” He trails off, gesturing vaguely at his kitchen, unsure of what else to say when something else suddenly dawns on him. “I promise I’ve never forgotten her before.” The words spit out and his eyes widen when he realizes that Even may think this is a habit of his. That he’s some young and irresponsible dad who can’t even be bothered to remember he has a kid to pick up just because he’s sick with something as insignificant as a cold.

 

(Well actually, it might be bronchitis if the wheezing and tightness in his chest is anything to go by. He should probably see a doctor).

 

Even just laughs at him. It’s soft and soothing like he is, and Isak wants to be wrapped up in the tone. Feels himself relax into the sound. 

 

“Isak it’s fine.” His voice is casual but insistent. “I have a hard time keeping track of what day of the week it is, let alone multiple schedules - and I’m  _ not _ also trying to keep another human being alive.”

 

Isak nods, mumbling a  _ thanks _ before the silence creeps back in. 

 

He knows he carries some sort of responsibility in alleviating the awkward cloud that has enveloped them. It is his home and he’s the host - but instead he chooses to focus on Even’s hands. Preferring this particular distraction at the moment to his hostly duties. 

 

He watches as his fingers grasp at  the counter he’s leaning against, knuckles turning white before relaxing and the flood of pink fills in again. Over and over like a nervous tick. And Isak has an urge to put his own hand over them. To squeeze them in his, and pour reassurance in the touch. 

 

“You know,” Even clears his throat. Forehead wrinkled as he concentrates on his words. “There’s this elephant in the room that we keep ignoring, and I think, for the sake of my own sanity, we just call it out.”

 

Isak lifts his gaze to meet Even’s, but remains still. 

 

“I mean, is this weird for you Isak?” 

 

And well, he wasn’t ready for this confrontation yet. Wasn’t ready for either of them to face what happened seven months ago. Was willing to just keep moving on as if it hadn’t happened. As if he didn’t feel his heart rip of out of his chest after making a deep connection with a man who could never be his. He wasn’t ready to admit that of the few dates he’d been on in his short life - that all it took was two hours with Even and he was already thinking about which photo of Emmy on his phone he would show Even once he told him about her. Because if he said that, then he’d also have to admit, that although it took just a couple hours for him to feel so linked to this man that he was ready to lay himself bare in front of him, it also took just a few words for him to cut him down and remind him why that would never be something he could have. 

 

_ ‘I don’t want kids.’ _

 

Four words. That’s it. That’s all it took for Isak to realize how foolish he was for allowing his heart to get ahead of his brain. 

 

He didn’t want to talk about it, because he didn’t want Even to see how messy his life was. And he certainly didn’t need another reminder of why he would always be just  _ that _ much short of desirable. 

 

But Even has no such worries, and he continues on.

 

“It’s only just recently occurred to me that it must be wildly inconvenient for you to have to deal with me so closely, when the first time we met you did everything you could to put distance between us. And fuck, I’m sorry I haven’t checked with you sooner, it’s just—” He inhales deeply, looking towards the ceiling, like there’s something there that can summon up strength. His chest deflates and he looks back at Isak. “There just doesn’t ever seem to be a good time to ask you why you ran out and ignored all my messages after what felt like something instant and  _ real  _ that night.” 

 

And there it is. The elephant in the room.

 

“Was it just me Isak? Am I the only one who felt like this could have been something that night?” The blue in his eyes darkens as something in his voice breaks just the slightest bit. “I know it was just one night; just one conversation over dinner. I know I am intense and come off strong and I can get ahead of myself. I know, I do. But—” he stops himself. The intensity that is a natural extension of who he is replaced with a raw desperation almost too difficult to look at wholly. He licks his lips slowly, an action Isak doesn’t miss. An action he’s grateful for - a quick distraction from the emotion pouring out of Even. “Was is just me?”

 

Those last words are hushed, almost whispered, and the sounds from the dishwasher seem louder now. Too disruptive somehow. But it’s currently drowning out the rapid and deep thump of his heart in his chest, and for that he can muster up something close to being grateful.

 

But really, it’s all eclipsed by fear and confusion and hope and indignation - and all of those are dangerous. 

 

Because it  _ wasn’t _ just Even. This hadn’t been one sided, no matter how rapidly it had happened - and that fact only added to the intensity of the pull he felt that night. The pull they  _ both _ felt that night. How could Even not realize that? And moreover, how could he bring this up, shoving it in Isak’s face, when the reason he had to leave in the first place is currently stomping around upstairs like a one-woman herd of cattle?

 

His chest is heaving now as his anger rises to the surface, heating up his skin, and he grasps at whatever bits of restraint and patience parenting has taught him in order to keep his volume down, but his tone clear of his intent.

 

“Of course it wasn’t just you! I felt it, and I  _ wanted _ it.” He stands up straighter, adrenaline energizing him and he leans forward, making sure he’s heard. “But in what world did you think it’d be okay to bring any of this up right now when it doesn’t even matter?!”

 

Even takes a small retreating step, back hitting the counter and face screwed up in confusion and hurt. But Isak soldiers on, has to keep going. Has to speak up for himself and for his daughter.

 

“You don’t want kids Even. Did you think that was something I could just glance over? Something I could forget for awhile for the sake of a good fuck for one night?”

 

“Isak—” 

 

“I have a child Even. I am twenty five years old and am saddled with that kid for the rest of my life, for better or for worse. I don’t get to choose when she’s convenient for me, and I don’t  _ want _ to.” 

 

The sound of a bedroom door opening upstairs startles him, and he feels the slightest bit disoriented. Moving out of Even’s space and realizing his picked up pulse is still due, in part, to whatever illness is running through his body. 

 

Even hasn’t moved. The confusion that had previously painted his expression was replaced with a fervency that was disconcerting, but doing little to change Isak’s resolve.

 

He needed to get Emmy her meds before she went to sleep, and Isak desperately needed rest himself. And as if to push that point further home, a violent series of coughs wrecks out of his body leaving him clutching at his chest painfully.

 

Even lets out an annoyed sound and makes his way towards the stove, filling a small pot with water and pulling something out of the fridge.

 

Isak chooses to ignore the actions, regardless of the fact that Even was still a guest in  _ his _ home, and moves to wash his hands before rifling through the cabinet and getting his daughters medication together. 

 

The jingle of keys pulls his focus as Even makes his way around the counter, grabbing his coat from the back of a stool and shrugging it on.

 

“Let the ginger soak in the water for at least twenty minutes before pouring it into a mug. There’s sliced up lemon in your fridge.” Isak clutches at Emmy’s purple glitter water bottle in his hand, unsure if he should walk Even out or say goodbye now. 

 

It feels so abrupt. So unfinished somehow, but he doesn’t know where to go from here. So he lets the man make his way out on his own, stopping at the entryway before turning back to face Isak.

 

“You and I had two very different conversations that night, and  _ this _ conversation,” He points in between the two of them. “ isn’t over.” He pauses for a beat, eyes shifting from each of Isak’s. “And for the record, even  _ if _ what you said was true,  _ that  _ child up there,” He gestures towards the stairs, gaze softening but voice fierce. “She’s enough to change anyone’s mind.”

 

The words hit Isak fiercely, a blow to his chest before settling in his bones. And he feels at an incredible disadvantage, watching Even relax, looking meek even, while Isak’s whole body is on alert.

 

Even shifts on his feet, shoving his hands in his pocket, and tone taking on concern. 

 

“Did you call out of work for tomorrow?”

 

Isak just nods. Too struck to speak. Too tired to think.

 

“I’ll pick her up for school and bring her home.” 

 

Isak opens his mouth to protest, not really sure where this gesture fits in to their dynamic anymore. Not really sure what the hell their dynamic is to begin with. But Even cuts him off before he gets a chance to argue anyway.

 

“I promise it’s not a problem. I’ll be here at 07:15 - with breakfast. Just get some rest Isak.”

 

The hall light upstairs flickers on, flooding their dim entryway with a warm glow before shutting back off, only to repeat the action two more times. The creak of the top step splits through before a small and whiny  _ “Daddy?” _ follows.

 

_ On. Off. _

 

_ On. Off. _

 

_ On. Off. _

 

He curses under his breath at the anxious tick that only happens when she’s tired, scared, or both. Only now realizing how long he’s made her wait for her evening routine, and impressed that she’s managed this long before seeking him out. 

 

_ On. Off. _

 

_ On. Off. _

 

_ On. Off. _

 

“I’m coming Bug.”

 

Even smiles reassuringly, nods once, and quietly slips out the front door.

 

Leaving Isak to climb up the stairs, lights flickering as he makes his way to Emmy, setting down her water and pills to place his hand on her neck, tapping below her ear in  _ threes _ .

 

“I’m here Bug,”

 

_ On. Off. _

 

_ On. Off. _

 

_ On— _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m [PinkSkam](https://Pinkskam.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr.  
> 🖤


	6. Chapter 6

 

 

**Chapter 6**

 

**__________**

**Sanasol**

 

**You’re ignoring me.**

**…**

**You better be dead.**  
**So help me isak, you better be dead.**

**…**

**That’s the fifth time I’ve called you in**  
**four days!**

**This is why Bug needs a phone.**

**…**

**Isabella Rossellini Valtersen!**  
**Answer your phone!**

**That’s not my fucking name!**

**He lives!**  
**What did I say?**  
**I said you better be dead.**

**Isabella Rossellini could never be**  
**as pretty as me by the way.**

**🤢**

**Sorry. Just threw up in my mouth a little.**

**Now answer your phone.**

**I really can’t.**

**I’m sick and my throat is killing me.**

**That’s the dumbest excuse.**

**Actually not an excuse.**

**But definitely a happy coincidence**  
**that worked out in my favor.**

**Isak**

**Seriously. I haven’t been ignoring you intentionally.**

**Promise.**

**Things just have been crazy.**

**Work’s busting my ass,**   **been at Emmy’s**   **school more often than I’m at home**   **at this point.**  
**Then Bug had a bad episode and was sick**   **which was followed by a hectic ass weekend**   **and now I’ve called out of work**   **all week to tend to my own sick ass.**

**Fine.**

**Fine?**

**Fine. I take back my comments**  
**about your expected death.**

**I truly don’t deserve your kindness…**

**I’m ignoring you.**

**How’s Bug feeling?**

**Her snotty nose is gone and now I have it.**

**So there’s that.**

 **Her panic attack was last week and we**   **put a new plan in place for her at school**.  **It’s only just started but I think it’s fine right now.**  

 **Only noticed a couple extra compulsions**   **outside of her typical daily ones.**   **But I mean I expect that with all the change.**

**And she keeps bringing up Emma  lately.**   **I don’t know Sana.**

**Isak stop. I can feel you spiraling**  
**into self deprecation.**  
**She’s a child and she lost her mother,**   **she’s going to react to that differently**   **throughout her life. It’s not a reflection**   **on you.**

**That child is weirdly obsessed with you.**

**It’s like, maybe there’s a compliment**  
**hidden in there somewhere…**

**Let’s FaceTime this week so I**  
**can see Bug, yeah?**

**Yeah we can do that.**

**She tried to use you as an excuse for**   **swearing the other day.** **So I know she**   **misses you.**

 **(That’s not an invitation for you to link**   **an article on why I should allow**  
**my seven year old to swear)**

**She’s seven and a half.**

**Bye Sana.**

**Hush.**

**…**

**So, are we going to keep texting**  
**and just not mention the new addition**  
**at Emmy’s school, or?**

**I don’t know. You tell me.**

**When did you think was a good time to**   **mention I'd be walking into a**  
**hornets nest after winter break?**

**Don’t be a bitch.**

**I didn’t even know until he’d already**  
**saw you. He called me that night.**

**Because I answer my phone.**

**Get a kid.**  
**Tell me how often you answer your phone then.**

**Get a new comeback.**

**Anyways. You good?**

**He didn’t know, by the way.**  
**I never told him about Emmy, although**   **he did ask a lot of question after that night.**

**I know. You’re irritating as hell, but**  
**you’re loyal. It never crossed my mind.**  
**❤️**

**Gross. Emojis look weird on you.**

**😘**

**Answer my question Iss.**

**I’m good.**

**I mean, I don’t know.**

**He was over last night.**

**I forgot Emmy at**   **school and he brought her home.**  
**Made dinner.**

**You forgot your daughter?**

**Focus, or I’m blocking you.**

**Cute.**

**He asked why I left that night, and**  
**I freaked out. But he picked Bug up for**   **school today and he’s dropping**  
**her off later.**   **And he said something that made me feel**   **like maybe I messed up.**

**Did you?**

**I don’t fucking know Sana!**

**He told me he didn’t want kids and I**  
**fled the scene. And now, he’s implying that**   **he didn’t say that?!**

 **Ugh. It’s too much to text you.**  
**You had to be there.**

**Which brings me to my next question.**

**I miss you.**

**That’s not a question.**  
**How did you actually graduate**  
**from a real live school?**

**I’m ignoring you.**

**I miss you too.**

**Do you want me to come over?**  
**I’m overdue for some personal time**  
**at work. I can make the drive this weekend.**

**No. We’re good.**  
**I’m fine. Just gets lonely sometimes.**  
**And that’s saying something, cause Emmy**   **is actually decent company.**

**Well, usually.**

**Sometimes.**

**Depends on the day really.**

**Isak, it’s fine to need human interaction**   **with actual adults that aren’t your**   **colleagues or doctors and therapists.**

 **You’re not a bad dad because you**  
**want a night away from Emmy**  
**here and there.**

 **And you’re not a bad dad just**  
**because you get**   **tired of having to worry**   **or take care of her.**

 **And it has nothing to do with your age either.**   **It’s just called parenting.**

**I can’t handle you being nice right now.**   **So I’m gonna deflect by summarizing**   **this conversation for your personal records.**

**I’m sick. It’s Emmy’s fault.**

**We miss you. I’ll use emojis more.**

 **I have to figure out a way to get my child**   **to learn to think before she speaks,**   **so I can at least avoid the**  
**principal's office minimum two times a week.**

**Drink lots of water and ginger tea.**

**I miss you both.**

**Leave the emojis alone.**

**Get better, so I can verbally assault you**   **the way the universe intended.**

 **You have a snowball's chance in hell at**   **getting Emmy to curb that mouth.**

 **Stop avoiding confrontations or you’ll**   **end up with more misunderstandings.**

**❤️ ❤️ ❤️**

 

**🚪🚶🏻♀️**

 

**__________**

 

**-**

**__________**

 

 **To: H.Simonson@hi.no** **  
****From:I.Valtersen**[ **@hi.no**](mailto:E.BN@Nordnes.skole.no) **  
****Subject: re: Team Opening in Tromsø**

 

**Herman,**

 

**Thanks for the recommendation and heads up. If they’re still interested in moving forward with the research, let this email serve as my official acceptance of the position.**

 

**Regards,**

**Isak Valtersen  
** _Field Director of Mammalogy Research_  
**_The Norwegian Institute of Marine Research_**

 

**__________**

 

-

 

He lets out a small grunt, scrubbing his face and discarding his laptop on the cushion beside him, trying not to think of all of the logistics that will be involved in making a move up north in little under a year if this promotion goes through. He feels winded after catching up with the bulk of emails he’d missed this week, an endeavor he attempted after waking up with enough energy to finally complete some chores around the house. He managed five loads of laundry and scrubbed both bathrooms from top to bottom this morning, before jumping into work and feeling the last dredges of energy begin to escape him at his need to over-do it too quickly finally caught up with him. But it was Friday and he was beginning to go stir crazy at the inactivity involved in letting yourself rest and heal. Not a concept he was familiar with as a Valtersen - or as a single dad.

 

He collapses further on the couch, head thrown back and stares off ahead, mindlessly counting the planks in the ceiling - attempting to avoid the onslaught of thoughts he’d kept at bay for the last several hours while he got things done around the house.

 

Thoughts revolving around Even.

 

He’d been at the house all week. Wordlessly inserting himself in, and making a routine that fit seamlessly without disruption.

 

Picking up Emmy every morning, breakfast in tow and always leaving a muffin and tea on the counter for Isak. By mid afternoon he’d return, both of them shedding their outerwear and shoes neatly in the entryway, sometimes while they continued whatever discussion they’d just been having - and sometimes it was in a relaxed silence. Emmy heading upstairs to change out of her school clothes while Even untucked his shirt and made his way to the kitchen to heat up ginger tea for Isak and a snack for Emmy. He’d chat with him about his day, filling him in on how Emmy was adjusting to the new program or sharing something outrageous she’d said. And still he’d always gauge how Isak was feeling and then insist on putting some sort of dinner together for them - regardless of Isak’s protests. And really, the protests died down by Tuesday evening. Even was going to do what he wanted and Isak was too tired to argue.

 

And well, he didn’t mind it all _that_ much anyway.

 

But still, they were dancing around the interrupted conversation from Monday, and they both knew it.

 

Yet, this was easy. This was easy when it shouldn’t be, and Isak was too sick and too apprehensive to bring it up. So he let Even make a pizza with Emmy, or throw together some pasta with fresh pesto sauce that smelled mouth watering - all while Isak sulked next to them both, buried beneath layers and slurping the soup he’d been ordered to eat instead.

 

Every night.

 

 _“You need to stay hydrated, and that’s filled with antioxidants."_ Even insisted all week.

 

 _“Yeah dad. It’s filled with antioxidants.”_ his traitor of a daughter responded as she swallowed down whatever meal Even had made that evening, barely contained mirth in her voice and expression.

 

She was annoying.

 

Isak rubs his hand over his face, letting out a groan in his empty home and trying to physically shake his head from his thoughts. Pushing himself off of the couch, determined to put together dinner himself tonight and release Even from this weird obligation that Isak didn’t ask for. The sooner he severs this and lets Even off of the hook, the quicker he can get back to his own routine - which does not include countless thoughts about a tall blonde and how well he fits into his home.

 

A quick look into his fridge reveals it to be well stocked (thanks to Even) and the very thought of being able to cook any meal he wants exhausts him immediately.

 

Maybe tonight was better left to some take-out for him and Emmy.

 

He begins to rummage through the pile of take-out menus he keeps in his junk drawer when a loud knock can be heard from the front door. Isak’s stomach twists in irritation - he isn’t expecting anyone this afternoon and Emmy and Even still have another thirty minutes or so until they arrive.

 

The knocking continues and he apprehensively makes his way down the hall - hating the idea of an unexpected visitor and the prospect of having to speak to anyone without a proper heads up.

 

_Who just shows up at people's houses without calling?_

 

“Isabella Rossellini Valtersen, open up!”

 

He picks up his pace, rushes to the door at the voice muffled behind it, grabbing the knob and yanking it wide, gritting out, “That’s not my name!” with a growl that doesn't match the growing smile on his face at the sight of his best friend in front of him.

 

Sana stands on his doorstep, one brow arched high, and two deep dimples entrenched on her cheeks, framing a trademarked smile that is both frightening and delightful - depending on the context.

 

“What are you doing here?!”

 

She lets out an annoyed sigh.

 

“It’s cold outside. Now take my bag and let me in.”

 

The strap of the duffle she’s carrying drops off of her arm as she lets it fall with a soft _thud._ Shouldering her way through the door - but not before stopping to rise on her tiptoes to press a kiss to his cheek.

 

He takes a deep breath in, relief flooding his senses as a weight lifts off of his chest that he hasn’t realized has been sitting there.

 

Sana’s home.

 

-

 

He lets her settle in, hanging her puffer jacket and lining her boots neatly - as is customary in his house - while he drops her bag at the bottom of the stairs and makes his way to the kitchen, putting the kettle on for her to make tea for the both of them. A task he isn’t allowed to do whenever they are together.

 

The silence is comfortable, something familiar and deeply missed, as he sits at the island, watching her move around the kitchen like it was her own. Cute little hums escape her lips as she pours the tea and rummages around his fridge for an acceptable snack.

 

He lets her work, slicing up fruit and arranging it all on a plate, while he sifts around the emotions running amuck in his head. Something that feels suspiciously like a cry trying to escape as he’s overwhelmed with how much he has missed her. How much he’s needed her. Not just someone he could call or text whenever he has the time, but having her tangibly in front of him. Someone he could see _and_ touch.

 

He swallows down thickly and clears his throat, thankful for the excuse of being ill, and takes the tea that is offered to him - a knowing look leveled his way as she sits on the stool next to him with her own mug.

 

“So,” She takes a delicate sip as she speaks. “Are you gonna finally talk to me about Even?”

 

“Are you going to explain why you’re here when I told you that you didn’t need to come?” There’s no bite in his tone. Mostly amusement and his habitual use of deflection as a coping mechanism.

 

“I ignored you.” She shrugs. “Like I always do.”

 

“Hmm.” He hums thoughtfully as he stares ahead. “Are you sure you didn’t just miss me?”

 

“I missed Bug.” Her response in quick and dry.

 

He thinks about throwing back another jab. A sarcastic comment. Some bickering between the two of them that’s natural and comforting. But he’s still a little tired and the truth feels a lot better.

 

“Well, _I_ missed you.” And he curses inwardly at the cloudy tone his voice takes as he says the words.

 

He feels her lean into him, instantly wrapping his arms around her shoulders, relishing at the knowledge that he’s still one of a handful of people able to do so freely, while she tucks her head beneath his chin.

 

“Yeah.” She breathes the word out softly.

 

“I always miss you.”

 

And it doesn’t matter who speaks the words. It’s true either way.

 

-

 

They’ve both migrated to the couch when the sound of the front door opening interrupts their conversation. They’ve spent the short amount of time catching up properly. Mostly about Emmy, and a little about work for the both of them, but they put their conversations on hold as the sound of Emmy’s voice carries down the hall.

 

“What’s for dinner tonight?” The soft rustle of coats can be heard as Even and Emmy presumably shed their layers and settle in. Both Isak and Sana rolling their eyes at the demanding tone of his daughter.

 

“That depends,” Even’s patient voice breaks through and Isak ignores the stir in his chest at the sound. “Lets see what your dad wants tonight.”

 

The two of them appear at the end of the hall, walking into the kitchen, still not having noticed Isak and Sana’s presence in the living room behind them.

 

“Can’t he just have soup again?”

 

Sana barks out a laugh at Isak’s incredulous expression. His daughter’s ruthlessness offending him, but not quite surprising him.

 

Emmy turns at the sound, loud squeals ringing out as she releases the hand that had been holding Even’s, and runs to the living room, throwing herself on Sana’s lap and squeezing her neck like her life depended on it.

 

“Aunt Sana,” her words are muffled, her face buried in her aunts neck. “I missed you so damn much.”

 

Sana lets out a silent laugh, shoulders shaking as she rubs Emmy’s back, taking in the irritated look on Isak’s face and looking far too amused for it not to be smug.

 

“Emmy James!”

 

She ignores him. Lifts her head up and presses her small hands on Sana’s cheeks - expression serious.

 

“Are you staying for a while?” Her voice carrying a hint of desperation.

 

“I’m here until Monday.” She leans in and kisses Emmy’s cheek, a concerned dip in her brows appears as she leans back, voice softening. “Bug,” She wipes at Emmy’s cheek, “Why are you crying?”

 

“I don’t know. I’m happy, I’m just—“ she shrugs, sniffling a stuttered breath as she does. “I’m just feeling a lot I think.”

 

Sana smiles knowingly, wrapping her arms around Emmy and shushing her as she leans back into the embrace.

 

Isak stands up, giving the two of them a few minutes to themselves, and slowly makes his way to the kitchen, watching as Even moves, his back to Isak as he fills a glass of water.

 

“How much water have you had today?” He asks the question without turning around - evidently sensing Isak’s approach - slicing a lemon and squeezing a wedge into the glass.

 

Isak shakes his head weakly as he leans against the counter. “I don’t know. Enough?” He sounds like a child.

 

Even turns around to face him, pushing the cup into his hands. He just raises his eyebrows in a challenge when Isak doesn’t respond.

 

“How are you feeling today?” His voice is calm but firm.

 

“Good. Fine. Better.”

 

“Because you’ve been drinking fluids all week.” He rests his hip against the counter, hands shoved in his pocket as he waits. “Drink the water Isak.”

 

Isak wants to argue, but he _is_ also thirsty. For the sake of his pride and his health, he decides to do both.

 

“This thing you’re doing.” Isak takes a sip, and then another when he realizes how thirsty he actually is. “It can stop. You can stop.” He doesn’t even try to hide the petulance in his voice.

 

Even looks amused, tilting his head to the side, looking cute and sexy at the same time in that unnerving and disarming way that only he seems to manage.

 

“What am I doing Isak?”

 

“You know what you’re doing. And the week’s up. So—“ he finishes the water, swallowing the last of it down and discarding the glass onto the counter. “So you can go back to doing whatever it is that you do in the mornings and afternoons and evenings.” He raises his brows in punctuation. “You’ve already won us over, ok? We get it. You’re great. I’m fine. I can take care of myself and my kid. We are good.”

 

He exhales heavily after rushing out all of the words in one breath, staring Even down with all the tenacity he can muster. But Even doesn’t back down, just takes a step closer, smile growing wider.

 

“I’ve won you over, Isak?”

 

Isak takes a step back, but he’s already against the counter. “That’s not what I meant. You know what I mean.”

 

Even releases a slow breath, briefly looking at the ceiling. “Fine Isak.” Even stops his advances and shrugs in apparent defeat, eyes meeting his again, and unwavering. “What did you mean?”

 

He looks at Even, irritated with himself for backing himself into this stupid confrontation because he ran his mouth, and now he just wants to bury himself in bed or have the ground swallow him whole - whichever comes first and rescues him from Even’s intense gaze.

 

“Dad!”

 

_That’ll work._

 

“Hmm?” He looks over at his daughter and Sana as they make their way into the kitchen.

 

“Aunt Sana’s taking me out for sushi!”

 

“Oh, we’re doing sushi tonight? Ok, I’ll get dressed in a min—“

 

“No, not you.” Sana interrupts as she sits Emmy in her lap at the kitchen table. “Just me and Bug.”

 

Isak glares at her from across the room, and she stares right back, giving nothing away. The room is quiet as the two of them challenge the other wordlessly. Emmy oblivious to the whole thing while she plays with the tassels on Sana’s shirt.

 

“That’s actually perfect.” Even cuts in. “Isak and I were going out for dinner as well.”

 

He breaks his silent argument with Sana and stutters in surprise at the man in front of him.

 

“We were what, now?”

 

Even doesn’t budge.

 

“Yeah. We have a conversation to finish.” He smiles back confidently before turning around and heading towards Sana, leaving Isak to react alone.

 

_Fuck._

 

So he just stands there, watching as Emmy runs to get her shoes and coat on, and Even and Sana finally embrace in greeting. Chatting among themselves as Emmy buzzes around and between them, grabbing Even’s hands and tugging his arm until he lifts her up and sets her on his hip, still engaging in conversation with Sana while Emmy waits, uncharacteristically, patiently. Resting her head on his shoulder while she plays with his ear.

 

Isak feels a little disoriented by it all. Trying to take in the countless changes in dynamics that have taken place in the last week - and then again, in the last hour. He feels like he should be indignant. Like his autonomy was taken from him and all of this shifting happened without his permission. But he’s not, because there’s nothing uncomfortable or unpleasant about it. When he sits and thinks about it - truly lets it sink in - it’s a feeling of pleasure that takes over.

 

He had a week that was, more or less, to himself. He didn’t have to worry about how he was going to manage - because Even was around to lift some of his burdens. He didn’t have the anxiety of a call from school, because he knew his daughter was in more than capable hands. Knew that Even wasn’t just good at what he did, but cared for Emmy in a way that would never allow for anything but trust from Isak. And his best friend was in town, and his daughter was happy. His daughter was calm.

 

He was calm.

 

“Isak.”

 

He comes out of his thoughts, Sana standing in front of him now - Even across the room whispering to Emmy who’s still on his hip, her fist clenching around his thumb in _threes_ while his fingers wrap around hers.

 

She doesn’t look overly anxious, but his concern grows heavy, wondering if it’s a good night for her to go out right now. If she can handle being away from the house and him for a few hours. Because right now it’s just a few fist clenches in her rhythm of  _three_ , but he’s not in her head and can’t determine if her anxiety will grow and prevent her from stopping or if it will escalate into an attack or a compulsion more obtrusive and abrupt then a hand tick.

 

But she keeps squeezing around Even’s thumb, her head stationed on his shoulder looking as relaxed as one can in that situation as he leans his head to the side and continues to speak softly to her.

 

“Isak.”

 

He looks away and gives Sana the attention she’s demanding.

 

“Yeah?”

 

She just looks at him for a few moments, opening and closing her mouth several times to say something and then thinking better before stopping herself. Instead, she squeezes his wrist, leaning up to whisper “Emmy will be fine. I’ve got her. Go change your sweatpants and do your hair.” Before leaning her temple to his cheek in solidarity and heading towards the front door.

 

He sees Emmy nod at something Even says, and he presses three kisses to her cheek before setting her down. She runs towards the front door to Sana, before turning around and rushing back in the kitchen to Isak, shoving her face in his hip as she wraps what she can of her arms around him.

 

“Bye dad.” It’s breathed out of her mouth contentedly, and Isak has no idea how he’s managed to raise a tiny human as aware and accommodating as this monster.

 

He pushes the hair out of her face, giving up on it ever being neat, and tugs on the ends lightly until she looks up at him.

 

“Love love love you.”

 

“Love love love you too.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m [PinkSkam](https://Pinkskam.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr.  
> 🖤


	7. Chapter 7

****“Even, why are we here?”

 

He looks through the windshield of Even’s car to see his own house in front of him. They’d driven nearly out of town to some pizza place Even insisted had the best crust and was worth the drive, only to have their pizzas ordered _to-go_ and get back in the car. Isak decided against questioning what Even’s intentions had been. Didn’t really feel like ruining the comfort they had going and was attempting to not overthink the evening.

 

The ride had been enjoyable and easy. Even spent most of it insisting that he and Isak had a lot in common because Isak was a marine biologist and Even loved low budget shark films.

 

_“I don’t even know where to begin unpacking this nonsense, Even.”_

 

_“Nonsense?! Isak, this has been the work of fate since the beginning. You work with whales and I own both Deep Blue Sea movies.”_

 

_“Both?! The second one was a straight-to-tv mess that the SyFy Channel put together!”_

 

_“So you’ve seen it then?”_

 

_“I can’t listen to you any longer.”_

 

_“You and me Isak - we’re the same.”_

 

_“I’m so embarrassed for you.”_

 

When they hadn’t been arguing about the differences between _actual_ marine research and whether or not Megalodon was still alive, they’d been discussing Even’s disdain for the snow and cold temperatures and whether or not he could even be considered a true Norwegian.

 

But now, Isak is sitting in Even’s car staring back at his own home and his question from earlier is still hanging in the air between them, waiting to be answered.

 

Even purposefully pulls the keys out of the ignition while keeping eye contact with Isak as he answers.

 

“So you won’t run away this time.”

 

And then he is out of the car, pizza boxes in hand, and heading into the house.

 

-

 

They’re in his living room. Plates filled with crumbs next to half empty pizza boxes sitting on the coffee table, both men groaning at their full stomachs from overeating.

 

Dinner had been a quieter affair - not completely silent, as Even seems to be capable of carrying a conversation with a dead person - but it wasn’t the easy banter from their car ride earlier either. The intention of what was actually going to be discussed hanging over both of them, and his nerves making an uninvited appearance over whatever Even wanted to clear up. To top it off, Isak was also beginning to grow suspicious over the fact that Sana and Emmy still weren’t home.

 

“You know,” Even took a sip from his beer, setting the half finished bottle down and leaning into the couch, turning so he was facing Isak fully. “When Sonja first told me she was ready to have kids, I didn’t even flinch. We were young- _ish_ , but it still felt like the natural next step for both of us.”

 

Isak did the same, not really sure how to respond to the non sequitur, but deciding giving Even his attention was a decent place to start.

 

“It was exciting for me, because I’ve spent all of my academic and professional life pursuing children. I’m fascinated by them and endlessly entertained by their enthusiasm and thought processes.” He pauses, half smirk on his lips as he huffs out a laugh. “At least, before growing up corrupts it all. And truth be told,” He looks past Isak, thoughtfully biting his lip in a tick Isak is growing used to seeing, and finding himself looking forward to. “There’s something so damn hopeful about putting a piece of yourself into the world, ya know?”

 

Hopeful wasn’t the feeling that had filled Isak when he thought of being a dad. Terrified was a lot closer to his experience. But the circumstances had been different as well. Knowing Emmy now, and loving her in that overwhelming way that he does, he can see how _hopeful_ is something you’d experience if you were actually _planning_ on having kids. But _terrified_ is still high on his list when he thinks about the end result of what his parenting may, or may not, produce. But Isak nods his encouragement for Even to continue.

 

“We had been together, for what felt like, our whole lives at that point, but we had never really discussed what having kids would look like for us. And by the time we were ready for them, we realized it was something we definitely should have done earlier.”

 

He looks right at Isak now - and this, Isak just knows, is going to upheave everything - as he breathes in deeply before letting the next words spill out.

 

“I’m bipolar.”

 

_Oh._

 

“I was diagnosed when I was fifteen years old, but that was only after a handful of misdiagnoses through my childhood and adolescence.” He runs a hand through his hair while he breathes in, seeming to give himself a second. “And there’s a million things I never understood about myself Isak, but one of the few things I _knew_ more than anything, was that I _wasn’t_ going to give this illness to a child.”

 

Even sat up straighter, eyes begging ‘ _Listen to me_ ,’ and Isak’s stomach was somewhere in his throat at what he expected was coming next.

 

“I don’t believe that a mental illness diagnosis is a death sentence for anyone - not even a child. But you will _not_ change my mind when it comes to passing my own genes down. And not only did Sonja not understand that - but she didn’t care. I was willing to look into a donor for us - and what I’d really had my heart set on - adoption. But she was as adamant on having a child naturally between the two of us, as I was about not.”

 

Even’s body sagged a little, something between relaxing from the fervency of what he was saying, and defeat. Isak’s instinct was to reach out, maybe run his thumb over his wrist comfortingly, or squeeze lightly at the back of his neck soothingly. All things he would do with Emmy when she got to the point of being visibly stressed out. But Isak was stuck, paralyzed in place, taking in everything that had been said and the implications of it all.

 

Even let a few more beats pass in the silence before he met Isak’s eyes once again.

 

“ _This_ is what I was trying to tell you that night.” It wasn’t whispered, but there was something hushed in the way he spoke these words. Delicate. Fragile.

 

“Sonja and I didn’t end things because she wanted children and I didn’t. Isak, having a family was the one thing we both agreed about fully. We ended things because the way we wanted to create a family was so fundamentally different, that there was no compromise for us.”

 

Isak’s stomach has left his throat and is replaced with a painful pounding in his chest. A small wave of nausea also joins in, and it’s an active battle not to give in to it.

 

He thinks back to that night, seven months ago, and truly he can’t remember that conversation. At least, not differently than what he’d thought he’d heard. But he does remember his insecurities. His worries over trying to date someone with all of the baggage he brought to the table so early on. And it’s not a difficult thing to remember, because they still live deep within him. And because of this he knows that he will put up guards - _does_ put up guards - when he believes that his world is being questioned or looked down on. And for Isak, it’s easier to create the assumptions of himself for others first, before they have the opportunity to do so themselves. Hurts less that way if he feels like he has the control over it.

 

So it’s not all that impossible for him to realize that maybe, he tuned Even out and put words in his mouth when he heard anything resembling a desire one way or the other for children.

 

But now what he’s hearing is that Even wants a family. And all other indications lead to Even wanting Isak. Or, at least, he did. But either way - Isak fucked up. He ran out on something that could have been incredibly special - even if he’s still not sure how he would manage a relationship with everything else going on in his life.

 

So when he lets out a quiet “ _Fuck”_ to himself, breaking the too long silence, and Even responds with a relaxed smile and, “ _Swear jar”_ Isak takes a calming breath and releases a throaty chuckle, thankful for the reprieve.

 

He’s not sure where to start, so he goes with the most obvious, and honest answer.

 

“I’m sorry.” It feels weak, somehow, in light of everything he’s been made aware of. But it’s true, so he says it again. “I’m so sorry.”

 

And Even, for his part, doesn’t look smug. Although he’s definitely within his right to be.

 

“I mean, there’s a list a mile long for what I should be apologizing for. Not listening, preconceived judgements and assumptions, ignoring you, not thinking—“

 

He’s cut off by Even pressing his bent knee against Isak’s thigh.

 

“Don’t be annoying.” He’s smiling though, and just like that - everything settles.

 

“Well, if you ask Emmy, it’s not something I can help.” They both laugh lightly at that, but it dies down quickly and back into a silence. “I am though.” He presses his leg back against Even. “Sorry, I mean.”

 

Even licks his lips, sucking the bottom one in slowly before releasing it.

 

“So,” he drags the word out worriedly. “You’re not upset or concerned about my bipolar? With me being around Emmy…?”

 

And this is the easiest question for Isak to answer.

 

“Even, I grew up with a mother who had paranoid schizophrenia and refused help, which ultimately lead to her passing. I spend my life with someone who needs the same morning and evening routine or she starts to go into a mental spiral. Who believes that if she doesn’t complete tasks or compulsions in multiples of threes, that something terrible will happen. I’m constantly worried that if I don’t provide symmetry in the places she needs it - like making sure her spoon is on the opposite side of her napkin - that her anxiety and compulsions will get so bad she won’t even be able to attend school normally in the future. That the fact that she still hasn’t been able to make friends her age is going to send her into a depressive episode.” He sends Even a meaningful look. “It takes a lot more to _upset or concern_ me.”

 

Even hasn’t moved, barely breathed, since Isak went off on his monologue. He’s not even sure he’s blinked. Anxiety starts to creep in, and he’s realized maybe he’s fucked up again.

 

“Shit, Even. Fuck.” He shakes his head at his own stupidity. He can be so self involved sometimes. “I didn’t mean to be reductive. Your bipolar is of course—“

 

He’s cut off by Even’s lips against his, firm and unmoving. His broad hand pressed to the back of Isak’s neck and pulling him in.

 

Isak’s stiff for a moment. Hands instinctively raising to press against Even’s chest in surprise, before his mind and body catch up and he relaxes into the kiss - because Even is kissing him.

 

The thought echos in his mind and something catches in his chest, a swell of a breath as he’s moving his lips against Even’s, carefully and unsure, but excited and curious. Sighing at a release of tension he didn’t know he’d been holding and Even’s touch just seemed to ease out of him.

 

He lets his fist clench at the collar of Even’s shirt and leans in further while Even sucks softly on Isak’s top lip, humming before slowly releasing it from his mouth. Isak chases it for a moment, dazed, before opening his eyes, disappointed at the loss and his insecurities beginning to set it.

 

Even doesn’t pull away fully, doesn’t open his eyes. Just keeps his forehead pressed to his and speaks softly - wet lips ghosting against Isak’s own as he does. Breath fanning over his skin and sending a wave of chills through his jaw and down his neck, pulse quickening in response.

 

“Isak,” he whispers. “Just. Shut. Up.”

 

And Isak thinks that saying _Just shut up_ is another way of saying _Just listen to me_ , and he’s done enough damage by not listening already. So he closes his eyes, breathes out an, “ _Ok”_ and pushes his mouth back against Even’s, needing the touch and the warmth again.

 

He feels Even relax against him, and he understands that reflex. Understands feeling like you can finally breathe, and the simple joy that brings. There’s an energy surging through him, and he doesn’t know what to do with his hands, feels restless and wants to do everything and feel it all at once. Can’t be close enough, can’t explore fast enough, but still warring with his own mind as he _needs_ to take his time. Needs to be tender _and_ demanding.

 

Isak relaxes his jaw, opening up and letting his tongue slide inside his mouth. Licking at the sharp points of Even’s canines and tasting the sweet flavor of him mixed with the stale beer and sighing because he wants more. Sighs because he thought he was overwhelmed before, but realizing now he’s just been pushed to another plane.

 

And Even chooses then to separate again, and this time Isak isn’t subtle with his disappointment, letting out a grunt at the second time this kiss has been broken, and follows it with a whine in the back of his throat.

 

He’s needy. It’s been a while.

 

Even’s hand moves from his neck and into his hair, lightly massaging with an amused look on his face.

 

“Isak?”

 

“What?!” He hears his own exasperation and is trying to summon some form of shame, but it’s all eclipsed by his irritation at currently not being kissed. And Even’s still smiling at him, so there doesn’t seem to be too much damage done anyway.

 

“Isak—”

 

“You said that already.” He moves forward to try and continue the activity but Even just moves back again.

 

“You’re so annoying. Would you just listen for a second?”

 

Even’s still smiling fondly, but the words feel like a reprimand somehow, so Isak lets out a deep exhale.

 

“Sorry.” He relaxes his grip on Even’s shirt, smoothes down the collar in silent apology.

 

“Isak,” he repeats himself. Leans in and kisses the corner of his mouth. “Will you date me already?” Presses another kiss to the same spot like he can’t help himself, then leans back waiting for Isak’s response.

 

“That’s...I don’t...I can’t—“ He’s stuttering, caught off guard and can’t seem to get his thoughts together fast enough for his mouth to know what the fuck it should be saying. That, and he’s still caught up in that kiss.

 

He tries again.

 

“I come with a lot. A whole extra human actually.”

 

Even nods. “You do.” He places a kiss beneath his eye and Isak’s lids flutter at the feeling.

 

“I work a lot, and then the rest of my day is consumed by that extra human I just mentioned.”

 

“Mhmhmm.” Another kiss, and a rub of his nose against his cheek that makes Isak shiver from the goosebumps that appear in its wake.

 

“I’ve been known to forget things - like the aforementioned human at school, for instance. Her principal had to bring her home once.”

 

Even’s nose skims his cheek and he takes a playful bite at Isak’s jaw. “He sounds hot. Is he hot?”

 

Isak doesn’t respond, just closes his eyes as Even nibbles at his chin, licking up until their lips meet again and playfulness becomes gentle. Careful.

 

“Isak?” His tone is serious now.. “You don’t have to say yes. You set the pace and the rules here. I’m just asking a question.” He’s sitting back now, lips detached from Isak, and eyes flitting between his own.

 

Isak blinks a few times, bringing himself back and allowing himself a few breaths to think clearly. It’s been too long since he’s kissed another man, and clearly he can’t be trusted to react like a normal well adjusted person when being kissed.

 

“I don’t feel forced into giving you one answer or the other, Even. I’m just afraid you don’t know me well enough - or what all dating me _and_ Emmy entails. Because, it’s not just me, it’s her too.”

 

And that’s as honest as it all gets. It will always come down to Emmy, and Isak doesn’t resent her that. She’s his life, and as much of a surprise as she was to him - she’s his, and he’s hers forever. They’re a packaged deal - and not the easiest bundle at that. And no matter how beautiful the man. How delicious his lips and how distracting his hands can be - none of that outshines his daughter and the priority of his family.

 

Even’s brows furrow. “Isak, please listen to me.”

 

“You say that a lot.”

 

“Well, it’s a recurring theme with you.”

 

“That’s fair.”

 

Even takes his hand, holding it in his lap and running his thumb over the back of it.

 

“When I say _‘Will you date me’,_ I’m asking if I can be a part of your life. If I can be a part of Emmy’s life. I’m asking if I can spend time getting to know the both of you - individually and together. I’m asking if I get to take Emmy home after school so we can have our talks where she tells me that today she fed the fish three pinches of flakes instead of two because she got anxious and wishes that she didn’t. I’m asking if I can be your date to events because you’re the young _Hot Dad_ and bragging is my favorite hobby. I’m asking if you’ll let me come over so I can see you, and kiss you, or make you watch _Sharknado_ \- or both.”

 

He pauses, squeezes his hand once. Twice. Three times.

 

“I like you Isak, and I like your daughter. And I don’t want one without the other. So,” He lifts his free hand to Isak’s jaw, caressing lightly by his chin. “Will you date me already?”

 

There’s a moment, where time suspends. Where the air thickens and feels heavy on his chest. Where a slight buzz sounds in his ear, like his blood is pumping too fast in his veins and his heart can’t keep up. A moment where he _actually_ feels like a guy in his twenties who just had his crush admit he had feelings for him. And something like joy and pleasure wash over him, conjuring up a breathless laugh that bubbles up without his permission. It feels soothing on his lips as it pours out. It’s warm and liberating, and so damn gleeful and sappy, he wants to punch _himself_ in the face.

 

And just like that, time comes crashing back down, and he’s back in the present, the gentle stroke of Evens thumb on his face rocking back and forth settles him. Grounds him.

 

Isak leans forward, eyes squeezed tightly and nodding as he does. “Yes.” he whispers against Even’s mouth, so overwhelmed by this man and his words. Feeling so cared for and thought after.

 

He doesn’t kiss him, just feels his lips against his own. Feels their breaths mingling with the other. Takes in a shuddering breath when Even asks a quiet “Yes?” and Isak breathes out another “Yes” in response.

 

And they stay that way, just breathing the other in. Hands wandering to necks and hair, jaws and shoulders - caressing and feeling - until finally Isak moves forward and presses his lips to Evens. It’s soft with none of the urgency from before, and Even responds back just as softly, carefully. They kiss and taste, hum and touch. It’s curious and exciting, and Isak leans back, letting Even fall with him until his back is against the couch and Even’s draped over his chest, a welcome weight settling himself between Isak’s legs.

 

They stay that way, delicate kisses and softer touches continuing to explore slowly until the rattle of the front door startles the quiet, and Isak breaks the kiss, gently pushing at Even’s chest until they are both sitting up - straightening their clothes and wiping their mouths - blush creeping up necks and shoulders shaking in quiet laughter at feeling caught like teenagers.

 

He hears Sana and Emmy chatting excitedly in the hall as they unload their layers and looks over at Even. “That’s gonna happen a lot.”

 

Even runs a hand through Isak’s hair. “That’s ok.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Yeah.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m [PinkSkam](https://Pinkskam.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr.  
> 🖤


	8. Chapter 8

******MARCH**

 

It had been two months and Isak was waiting for the other shoe to drop. Two months of dating Even. Two months of inviting someone into the system that he and Emmy had painstakingly created and still finding new enjoyment in it. There were rules, though. There were boundaries. Things he set in place to not overwhelm Emmy - but also to not overwhelm himself.

 

He had given it another week after Sana’s visit before he spoke to his daughter. Mentioned Even to her and asked her how she felt about him being around in a different capacity other than just her school principal. It wasn’t that he thought she’d be opposed to the idea - but introducing too much change too quickly could easily be a trigger for her compulsions and panic, and nothing was worth that. Not even his own excitement over his new relationship. So he approached her over dinner, taking her to their favorite Thai restaurant and ordering extra crab rangoons for the occasion.

 

_“So, he’s your boyfriend now?” She licked her fingers clean from the sticky sauce she’d been using to dip her dinner into, not looking at Isak - too focused on her food._

 

_“Yeah,” He mumbled distractedly as he fiddled with his chopsticks, still unable to fully grasp using them properly, but feeling competitive when his seven year old was practically a professional at the utensils. “I mean I want him to be and he asked me to.”_

 

_“Did you say yes?” Another bite, and now there was a trace of sauce moving down her bottom lip, tongue peeking out trying to catch it before it went any further. It was a failed attempt._

 

_“I did.” He gave up with the chopsticks and tossed them aside, grabbing the fork Jakob, their usual server, had brought them earlier, having known Isak would end up using it anyways._

 

_“Well then he’s your boyfriend.” Another bite. More wayward sauce._

 

_“For the love of—” he grabbed two wet naps and tossed them across the table, one of them hitting the back of her hand and causing a familiar grumpy expression of surprise on her face._

 

_“Hey!”_

 

_“Clean your face and wipe your hands. You're driving me nuts.”_

 

_She narrowed her eyes at him, but opened up the square packets and began cleaning all traces of sticky sauce she could find, wiping diligently before looking back up._

 

_“I like Even.”_

 

_He paused his fork midway to his mouth for a moment, caught off guard, before bringing the dumpling to his mouth, chewing methodically as Emmy continued._

 

_“And I like when he comes over too and I think he likes me.”_

 

_“He definitely likes you, Bug.”_

 

_She finished cleaning her hands, disposing of the wipes off to the side of the table, before picking up her chopsticks and digging back into her pad Thai silently._

 

_Isak waited another minute or two, waited to see if her thought process had been complete, but she said nothing else. Just kept eating, this time paying more attention to the mess she made._

 

_“So,” he began. “It’s ok with you if he comes over more?”_

 

_She lifted her eyes, looking at Isak like he was two screws short of a set._

 

_“Isn’t that what I said?”_

 

And that had been that. Isak has a boyfriend. Isak _is_ someone’s boyfriend.

 

It was slow going at first, she was still adjusting to the new program at school and he didn’t want to shake up her routine at home. But eventually it evolved; Isak dropping her off at school in the mornings and Even bringing her home in the afternoons. Isak was able to stay late at work if needed without worrying about how he would manage everything else. Sometimes Even stayed for dinner, other times he wouldn’t. But he was always around on the weekends, helping Isak around the house, piano duets with Emmy, new recipe attempts with Isak, or the three of them sprawled out in various positions in the living room reading. They all really liked to read.

 

It was a new normal, and it felt like being at peace for the first time in a long time.

  

-

 

**APRIL**

 

**__________**

 

 **To: I.Valtersenn@hi.no** **  
** **From:H.Simonsen**[ **@hi.no**](mailto:E.BN@Nordnes.skole.no) **  
****Subject: re: Team Opening in Tromsø**

 

**Isak,**

 

**Just came out of a meeting with the Director up in Tromsø. Expect a call from him this week. They are moving forward with the new research program.**

 

**Excited for you kid.**

 

**Best,**

**Henrik Simonsen  
** **_Senior Director of Mammalogy Research_**  
**_The Norwegian Institute of Marine Research_ **

 

**__________**

 

-

 

**MAY**

 

“Even? What the hell is this?” Isak lifts the plastic wrapped block from the grocery bag, holding it out in front of him and turning to face his boyfriend as he carries in the last of the bags in from the car.

 

“ _Brunost_?” He sets the rest down, dipping his brow in confusion as he starts unloading the produce and putting the bananas in the basket on the kitchen island.

 

Isak remains where he is, arm stretched out and unmoving. “But this wasn’t on the list.”

 

“Yeah babe, I know. I went rogue and went off list today.” He clears the rest of the fruit from the bag, organizing them on the counter methodically and symmetrically. “Anyways, I was gonna make waffles this weekend and wanted some to top them off with.” He grabs the brunost from Isak’s hands, leaning in for a kiss, but missing entirely when Isak moves his head to the side, intentionally giving Even his cheek instead of his lips.

 

“I think I have to break up with you now and that really sucks for me because I’m really fond of you. The timing isn’t great.”

 

Even just stands there, incredulous look on his face replacing his offense over the rejection of his kiss.

 

“Are you kidding? You don’t like _brunost_?! What kind of Norwegian are you?”

 

“The regular kind! And don’t get me started on the _‘Real Norwegian’_ argument. You can’t stand snow, Even!  Anything below 18 degrees has you bundled up in a parka.” Isak moves towards the bottom of the staircase, calling his daughters name, before heading back into the kitchen where an amused and befuddled Even still stands.

 

“Snow isn’t playing fair! It’s both wet _and_ it’s cold, Isak! It’s either one or the other! You can’t be _that_ uncomfortable and expect me to like you!”

 

There’s movement upstairs before Emmy can be heard bounding down and walking into the kitchen, standing by Isak, whose arms are now crossed as he holds Even in a stare down.

 

Isak sees her look between the two men from his peripheral before he speaks.

 

“Bug, Even eats brunost, and he brought it into our house.”

 

He hears the quiet gasp she lets out and he lets his own expression waver with a quick smile, before schooling his features again.

 

“Does Aunt Sana know?”

 

Even’s jaw drops comically.

 

“Are you two joking? It’s _brunost!_ It’s delicious! It’s Norwegian! It’s unpatriotic _not_ to like it!”

 

She moves closer to Isak’s side leaning in, temple pressing against his hip and eyes narrowed sharply at Even.

 

“We don’t eat brunost in this house Even.” she deadpans, but leaves no room for argument.

 

“Yeah,” Isak speaks up. “We don’t eat brunost in this house.” repeating after her like a child.

 

“Fine.” Even takes the cheese and finds a place for it in the fridge. “More for me then.”

 

Emmy grabs Isak’s hand, tugging as she turns to go to the living room. “Even, you stay here and think about what you did.”

 

Even’s mouth drops open, adorable pouty lips, gaped in shock. But Isak just shrugs, following Emmy in the living room and leaving Even to, in fact, think about what he’s done.

 

-

 

“I missed you last night.” Even is mumbling his words against the back of Isak’s neck, arms on the counter around him, caging him in where he finishes up the dishes from dinner.

 

He’d had an all staff meeting at the school that went later than expected the night before, so Isak had picked Emmy up that afternoon instead, not getting to see Even until he got home from work today. He dries his hands on the pig towel, turning around to face his boyfriend, and wraps his arms around his middle, contentedly resting his head on his shoulder and nuzzling in closer when he feels Even’s arms wrap around his back.

 

They stand there for several moments, swaying slightly as they embrace. Lights dim in the kitchen and the hum from the fridge as their backdrop. It had been a busy and stressful week for both of them. Even was in the midst of an administrative nightmare preparing for school to end in a few weeks, while also deciding on whether or not he wanted to take the position for principal that had recently opened up, given the announcement of Mrs. Landvik’s leave of absence turning into an unexpected retirement. And Isak had been drowning in his research at work, attempting to format information about the migratory patterns of humpback whales and its direct correlation to global warming, into something user friendly enough to present to the team in Tromsø.

 

The added workload, on top of what it could, or couldn’t, possibly mean for his future with Even had been looming over him - this last month in particular. It wasn’t something he was bringing up yet, though. Because the truth of the matter was, that nothing was quite set in stone. Nothing was final until he met with the head of the facility. But also, he was enjoying this time now, and confronting it was an unnecessary source of stress he didn’t want or need.

 

And right now, in this moment he just wanted to stay present, and currently that meant being held by Even in the middle of his half cleaned kitchen while he hummed and pressed sporadic kisses to the top of his head.

 

“So,” Even began, face buried tiredly in Isak’s hair. “What are we doing for your birthdays?”

 

Isak let out a groan, muted only slightly by Even’s sweater covered chest.

 

“I don’t know. I haven’t even thought about it. I have another month still.” He pushes himself further against Even, wondering if he could just fall asleep standing up like this.

 

“Well, what do you want to do?” Even brings a hand to Isak's neck, rubbing at the knots there, doing the same with his other hand as it works the muscles in between his shoulder blades. The relaxing effect is strong enough that Isak is fading fast and scarcely remembers he’s been asked a question to begin with.

 

“Isak?” Even shakes him a little, bringing him reluctantly back to the present with an annoyed groan.

 

“Usually we just fly back to Oslo and spend it with my dad. Have a beach day because Emmy loves swimming. But he and Ina are taking some month long cruise around the Mediterranean so we’ll probably just stay home. Maybe see if Sana wants to drive up and we can celebrate with a cookout.”

 

He shrugs, letting his hands fall down from Even’s waist until he can tuck them into his back pockets for warmth.

 

And so he can touch his boyfriends ass.

 

Whatever.

 

“Yes, but what do _you_ want to do? It’s both of your birthdays.”

 

“I think you’re underestimating how low maintenance I am about my birthday. I share it with my daughter. Have you met her? Literally, whatever she wants to do is fine with me. Her ideas tend to be better than mine anyway.”

 

He lets out a deep and tired sigh, slowly extricating himself from Even’s arms - mostly unwillingly - and leaning back against the counter. A few more moments in his previous position and he is bound to get a boner, and there wasn’t much he could do to take care of that situation at the moment. Because it was late and it would mean not wanting Even to leave his bed, which would also mean having an overnight - which hasn't happened yet and wasn’t something he had been able to reconcile with. The idea of Even and him sharing a bed wasn’t something he was averse to, but doing that in his home felt like a betrayal, in some ways. Like he was promising himself something he couldn’t be certain of. Just another one of his boundaries he set into place.

 

This was fine though, they’d gone four months like this and it was comfortable, and Even was nothing short of respectful of that, it was a frank conversation they’d had earlier on and Isak was proud of himself for that level of communication. So it was fine.

 

Except for the massive blue balls he had to take care of by himself, regularly.

 

Too regularly.

 

Because there was never any time to be alone, at least never long enough without Emmy. So aside from the occasional rubbing up against each other on the evenings after Emmy had gone to bed or right before Even was leaving - their relationship hadn’t really entered that phase yet.

 

And to say that Isak was frustrated, was an understatement.

 

So yeah, removing himself from being pressed up against Even for too long was a necessary evil.

 

He looks at his boyfriend, amused grin on his face and knowing expression, like he’d been listening to Isak’s thoughts just now, and shoves his hands in the pocket of the hoodie he was wearing. Isak’s pink pig pullover hoodie. The one Emmy got him for Christmas a few years back and Even has taken to wearing whenever he’s over.

 

It was a ridiculous look on anyone, pastel pink with light blue and yellow cartoon pigs covering it - but on Even it was all the more outrageous. Too short in the torso, every subtle movement revealing his abdomen or the small of his back, and sleeves too short and resting just above his wrists. But he insisted on wearing it and Isak insisted on never allowing him to leave the house with it on.

 

_“Iss, I spilled sauce all over my other shirt. Just let me wear this home. I promise I’ll bring it back tomorrow.”_

 

_“I believe you.”_

 

_“Thank you.”_

 

_“You’re still not taking it home.”_

 

_“Iss—“_

 

_“Take it off.”_

 

What Even didn’t know; the reason Isak refused to part with it every evening, was because he slept with it on his pillow. Because it smelled so much like Even that sometimes it was the only thing soothing him enough to relax into any sort of slumber - especially these days. A nightly reminder of what he had, even if it wasn't holding him while he slept.

 

But for now, he was keeping that piece of information tucked away.

 

“Well I was thinking,” Even interrupted his thoughts, rocking back on his heels as he spoke. “My family has a Summer house just north of Alesund in Hildre. It’s really private and actually right on the sea. So I thought I could take you two up for the week.” He shoves his hands further into the hoodie pockets. “Bug could swim to her hearts’ content and you wouldn’t have to worry about crowds. And we could leave the day after you get back from your work trip. I’ll make sure Bug is packed and we could make the drive up together...”

 

And it was at the mention of driving that Isak saw the flaw in this idea. The impossibility of it all.

 

“Even, that’s an eight hour drive. Emmy can’t be in a car that long. She’ll have an attack. It’s too much, she starts tapping on her chest or her legs until she starts hitting them and counting out loud because she doesn’t understand when we will arrive, and she gets scared not knowing. Two hours is about all she can handle and—“

 

“Isak” Even’s hands were on his shoulders, steadying him, Isak’s own fists clenched onto Even’s forearms - amidst working himself up at the thought of Emmy’s anxiety and rituals, he hadn’t realized he’d latched onto Even.

 

He comes back to himself, aware of the heaving in his chest and the frenzied feeling buzzing through his head, and he slowly unfurls his hands from Even and forces his shoulders to relax.

 

“Isak, I’m not going to force you into a trip with me, but you need to make that decision based on what you _do_  or  _don’t_ want." He tucks his head down to look Isak in the eye. "Because Emmy _can_ make that trip."

 

There's a pause, Even holding Isak's gaze - steadying him before he continues.

 

"She has been doing very well with Lette and her _exposure response therapy_. This is an opportunity to really implement that outside of school. We can make it a road trip. Have three or four planned stops that she can anticipate on the way.” He lifts his hands to Isak’s face when he drifts his eyes down, lifting his chin back up. “Isak, look at me.”

 

And he does.

 

 _“Listen to me_.”

 

And at those three words, spoken in the deep, hushed, and calming timbre of Even’s voice, he feels the vice in his chest release. Knows he is safe. Knows he can trust. Knows he needs to just listen.

 

“From the work I’ve done involving OCD in children, and what I know about Emmy, you can’t always throw her in the middle of her fears and hope for the best, but you also can’t let it control her or you either. You’re not doing her or yourself any favors.

 

“Her anxiety _is_ real. She _is_ terrified. And if she’s forced to stop her ritual, it _will_ still peak, and it will stay there for a little bit. But, it _will_ also eventually fall.” He strokes his thumb across Isak’s jaw soothingly. “So we will make some planned stops. And we can stretch them out just _that_ much longer than the previous one to practice some more _ERP._ But she can do this, Isak. _We_ can do this. So if you hate the idea of a week at the cabin, that’s fine. We stay here. But don’t shoot the idea down out of fear.”

 

And there it is. The motivation behind nearly everything he does and every boundary he sets. Fear. And Even, he sees it. He accepts that it’s a current part of Isak - but not a permanent part. It’s the most gentle call out he’s ever experienced, and done with so much truth and love that Isak feels inundated with an onslaught of emotions he can’t even begin to possibly sort through.

 

So he steps forward, presses the softest kiss he can manage to the softest lips he’s ever touched and sighs out, “Ok.”

 

He feels the answering smile against his mouth, and barely registers the delighted huff of an “Ok” in return.

 

-

 

Eventually they finish cleaning the kitchen, Even packing Emmy’s lunch before he starts to gather his things to leave.

 

He’s nearly at the door before Isak stops him.

 

“Hey babe.”

 

There’s a tired and confused look on Even’s face. It’s been a late night, and they both just want to get in their beds and sleep, Isak knows this. So Even raises his eyebrows in response to Isak.

 

“Hand it over.” And he holds his hand out, gesturing to the pig hoodie still being worn by Even.

 

“I swear to god, Valtersen—“

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m [PinkSkam](https://Pinkskam.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr.  
> 🖤


	9. Chapter 9

******JUNE**

 

“What did you buy me?”

 

Emmy was sprawled out on Even’s lap, facing the camera on the laptop that was sitting, presumably, on his coffee table, as they FaceTimed before she went to bed.

 

It had been three days spent in Tromsø for Isak. In and out of meetings the entire time, only to end his nights with some takeout and his computer open on his hotel bed while he spent the rest of the evening with Even and Emmy via video chat.

 

“Nothing. I bought you nothing. I’ve forgotten all about you, actually. What’s your name again?”

 

She rolls her eyes, tilting her head back to look at Even.

 

“He got me a snapback that says _Tromsø_ on it.”

 

Even looks back down at her, the angle weird with her back against his chest and her head still beneath his chin.

 

“What makes you so sure you got a snapback?”

 

“I’ve known him for a long time Even. We read each other’s minds. Keep up.”

 

Even barks out a laugh and Emmy turns back to the laptop unphased.

 

They talk for a few minutes more, before Even and Emmy decide now is a good time to teach Even how to braid. It becomes a chaotic mess of hollering and laughter as Emmy sits between Even’s knees, his hands wrapped in her hair as Isak tries fruitlessly to talk him through a French braid from the other side of the computer screen. The result is a matted mess that he ends up gently brushing out as they wind down and say their goodnight's for the evening, with promises to be at the airport the next day to pick him up.

 

He closes his computer with an exhale and collapses back onto the pillows behind him. Anxious to finally get on a flight tomorrow and sleep in his own bed.

 

And squeeze Emmy.

 

And _be_ squeezed by Even.

 

Today had been his last day of meetings and new introductions. He’d gained full access to the facilities and felt younger Isak’s dreams getting a chance to finally see the light. Today had also been what finally set everything into place: in six months he would be moving to Tromsø right before Christmas to take on his new position as the youngest research director at the _Tromsø Institute Of Marine Research_.

 

Shaking hands with the new members of his team after decisions had been made, had been a moment of pride for him and what all he’s accomplished to get to this point in his life. He was filled with equal amounts of excitement and apprehension.

 

This was an opportunity he’d once thought to be unattainable, and here he was watching the wheels set in motion and move forward for him. He was able to provide for himself and Emmy while doing something he loved - not having to sacrifice one for the other. It was a heady sense of self.

 

But of course, there came the concerns and anxieties. Making the move across the country with his daughter. Finding a home for them, a school she could thrive in, and setting plans into motion for her _before_ arriving. Being in a new place where he knew no one, having only himself to rely on when life inevitably decided to happen. The worries that came with knowing he needs to have a support system available to him but not knowing if he was capable of making that happen.

 

And then there was Even. The uncertainty of that future was just as painful. They’d been together only five months, it was absurd to ask him to continue anything long distance - especially when Isak had no plans in the near or distant future of ever returning to Bergen permanently. And truly, Isak didn’t think he could handle the rejection of Even deciding it was too big a move for them and too soon - it’s been a whirlwind five months for them, but only five months nonetheless.

 

And Even’s life was in Bergen and Oslo, there was nothing for him that far north. Especially for a man so adamant on hating cold weather. And even _if_ Even was willing to make that effort, to change the dynamic of their relationship so abruptly - Isak couldn’t promise him anything.

 

It was definitely a conversation they would need to have, Isak knew this, and sooner rather than later. But for now, it was a conversation for another day.

 

-

 

June 21 arrives looking as beautiful and idyllic as it can. A sunny and bright Norwegian Summer day - clear skies, warm breeze, and the sound of happy chatter coming from downstairs as Even and Emmy finish up final preparations for their trip to Hildre that morning.

 

Even had arrived bright and early with birthday breakfasts for the two Valtersens and a chipper and eager demeanor that Isak was ready to throw out the window until another four hours had passed, at least.

 

Although, the fresh doughnuts from their favorite bakery helped. But only marginally.

 

Everything was set to go, with Isak finding a few last minute items to shove in his suitcase for the week, before dragging it downstairs while he searched for his _Fred Perry_ boat shoes. It was as he was rummaging through a storage bin in the closet underneath the stairs that he heard his daughter say something that made him pause his search, and peek around the door into the kitchen.

 

She’s perched on the counter, Even standing next to her, slicing fruit for snacks for their road trip, and handing her bits here and there to eat as she spoke.

 

“Sometimes, when I think really hard about how much I love daddy, I cry.”

 

Isak’s breath hitches, chest pinching at her words and her use of _daddy_. A rare endearment that comes out when she’s emotional or scared or feels particularly small and out of control.

 

Next to her, Even stops his movements, setting down his knife and giving her his full attention.

 

“But those are happy tears, Bug.”

 

She fiddles with the wedge of clementine in her hands. “I know. But it feels so big in my chest, ya know?.”

 

It’s silent, for a few moments.

 

“I do know. Love can do that.” Even says as he brushes a strand of hair out of her face.

 

Isak feels like an intruder watching this without either of them aware. The moment between them so clearly a private one, but he can’t make his feet move away. So he watches as Emmy pops the fruit in her mouth, chewing slowly and thoughtfully before craning her neck up to look at Even.

 

“You love daddy too.” It’s not a question. She isn’t wondering. It’s an observation; a fact she seems so aware of even though those words haven’t yet been exchanged between Isak and Even. Even though she’s not witnessed them sharing that sentiment. Even though Isak himself is so keenly aware that it’s an emotion he likely feels but can’t find in him to say - yet his daughter, eight years old today, is able to call it out without reserve.

 

Even takes a deep breath in, and Isak holds his own at the action, unconsciously preparing himself for the words about to be spoken. Words he may or may not be allowed to hear at this moment.

 

“I do.” It’s matter of fact, but there’s a depth there. “I love him very much.”

 

“And you love me too.” She doesn’t miss a beat, just throws the words out there with a confidence she definitely did not inherit from him.

 

Even’s smile grows, tenderness trickling out of his eyes as he leans forward and presses his forehead to hers.

 

“Bug, I don’t just love you - I _love, love, love_ you.”

 

Isak watches as her face grows serious, one small wrinkle forming between her brows as Even presses a kiss to her forehead, and Emmy grabs his face in between her tiny - and more than likely, sticky - hands before he can pull away. Looking him square in the eye, nose to nose with a seriousness Isak knows all too well.

 

And then she speaks. Her tone steady and sure.

 

“My heart loves you like it loves daddy.”

 

They’re both still, barely a breath can be heard as he looks on at his daughter holding Even’s face and expressing her love for him in the most ‘Emmy way’ possible. He watches as her small hand slowly wipes at Even’s cheek - once, then twice - and she whispers, “Those are happy tears Even.”

 

He nods back solemnly, and whispers back wetly, “These are happy tears Bug.”

 

-

 

It takes Isak ten minutes too long to locate his shoes. Taking the time, when he quietly returns to the closet, to wipe at his own face, feeling a few cracks in heart begin to fill as he does.

 

-

 

The drive to the cabin is peaceful and easy. Emmy as navigator sitting in the front seat as Even drives to their three destinations.

 

There is a moment, on the last hour of their trip, where Emmy begins to worry and unsettle a little. Anxiously asking a lot of questions and barely waiting for an answer before asking the next.

 

_“What does the house look like?”_

 

_“What’s the name of the road it’s on?”_

 

_“Will it be on the left or the right?”_

 

_“Is it the only house on the road, or are there others?”_

 

_“How many others before it?”_

 

_“About how long until we get there?”_

 

_“What did you say the house looked like?”_

 

And Even answers her patiently, one hand on the steering wheel and the other around the back of her neck, thumb tapping below her ear.

 

_1, 2, 3._

 

_1, 2, 3._

 

_1, 2,--_

 

They arrive.

 

-

 

The cabin is stunning. Wrap around patio with steps leading onto a sandy shore that disappears into the Norwegian Sea. Potted plants tucked into every available space and lush, oversized furniture sprawled throughout and anchoring picture windows that show off the vast landscape, making it difficult to choose whether you want to spend your time inside or outdoors.

 

It’s a space that is lived in, but orderly and neat, and Isak relaxes at the realization that there is nothing abruptly chaotic here. Nothing that should set Emmy into fidgets or compulsions.

 

She drags her bag into a room with one set of bunk beds, a window looking out onto the patio, and two dressers neatly aligned against one wall - twin lamps adorning the top.

 

Symmetry.

 

“Are you gonna sleep with me or with Even?”

 

She’s made herself at home on the built in bench below the window - an artful juxtaposition between her tiny frame and that of the enormous window behind her - watching Isak carefully as he unpacks a few things for her, making sure her pajamas (his Jesus t-shirt) and socks are accessible for her this evening.

 

He’s thrown a little by her question, but doesn’t stop his actions. Continues arranging her clothes and toiletries into the dresser as he contemplates the answer to that question.

 

Because, he doesn’t know the answer himself.

 

Truthfully, he hadn’t even thought of it. They’d not shared a bed yet. Naps together on the couch downstairs, yes. But those had mostly been involuntary, taking place on a lazy weekend with no other plans in sight.

 

He wasn’t opposed to the idea, and he didn’t think Even was either. It just— hadn’t been discussed.

 

He finishes putting the last of her clothes in the drawers, and sits down on the floor against the window seat. She hangs a leg over his shoulder and he grabs her ankle, holding it just because he can.

 

“I don’t know, Bug. Do you want me to stay with you?”

 

It was a fair and expected question. New spaces could be frightening. When his dad and Ina bought their condo a year ago and they stayed for a weekend visit, Emmy slept with him, too afraid of the unfamiliar closets and doors in the new place to sleep on her own.  Hell, even the sounds of a house or building that wasn’t his own, settling at night could unnerve Isak. So he understood the anxiety that came with the thought of sleeping somewhere new.

 

Isak squeezes her ankle comfortingly, craning his neck back to look at Emmy. She rests a temple against the window, two unruly Dutch braids falling out from underneath his old maroon snapback that sits backwardson top of her head. He had in fact bought her a green one from Tromsø, but she still insists on wearing his old ones. He doesn't know why he wastes the money.

 

She’s chewing her lip in that adorable way Even does, a new tick she’s picked up, thinking for a few moments longer and looking around the room before her eyes land down on him.

 

“I don’t know yet. Ask me later?”

 

Isak nods once and kisses the side of her knee.

 

“I’ll ask you later.”

 

-

 

Later comes that evening with Emmy choosing to sleep by herself. Isak is there to make sure her pillows are evenly surrounding her, to tap the lamp three times before shutting it off, and to whisper _“Love, love, love you."_ before shutting the door and making his way out to the patio where Even has a fire going in the fire pit and and an extra long blanket draped over him on the outdoor chaise. He lifts a corner, inviting Isak to join him with a relaxed smile.

 

He turns his body in so the side of his cheek is pressed somewhere between Even’s chest and shoulder, not allowing him a view of the ocean, but he isn’t much interested in that at the moment any how.

 

There’s some music coming from the Bluetooth speaker, volume lowered so it's barely audible as it mingles with the sound of the waves crashing onto the sand, breaking before retreating back again.

 

Even’s hand trails up and down Isak’s back, a gentle glide before his fingers dip below the waistband of his pants and tuck around his hip. A light grip, protectively possessive and seeking the warmth of skin on skin.

 

It’s perfect. He’s perfect. They are perfect.

 

“Happy birthday.”

 

“I love you.”

 

They both speak their words in hushed tones at the same time, stopping when they each hear what the other has said, and lazy laughs escape them both. It’s Isak who speaks again, his face still tucked into Even, but his hand wrapping tighter around his middle.

 

“I don’t know if this should be a more monumental moment or maybe more grand.” He skims his nose over Even’s shirt, a comforting movement as he breathes him in. “And maybe it should be more romantic? But if that’s the case, then I’m not really the guy for the job. But I do know—“ He pauses, fiddles with the back of Even’s shirt distractedly. “I do know that I love you. I’ve known it for a while now, and I mean, how could I not?”

 

He feels Even shift, a kiss is pressed to the top of his head before he remains there, cheek leaning against his temple.

 

“I love you too. Both of you.”

 

Isak’s heart swells at those words. A sentiment he’s known, but still affects him enormously to hear out loud.

 

“I know you do.” he whispers back. “And I’m at this place now where I don’t know how to imagine my life without you in it.”

 

He stays where he is. Easier to have this conversation without looking Even in the eye, but not wanting to leave his embrace either. Needing his touch as an anchor. “I don’t _want_ to imagine my life without you in it. You’re this permanent fixture now, and I can’t even pinpoint when it happened. It just did. And now— “

 

He pauses, trying to choose his words carefully, but in the end decides to lay it all out there.

 

“And now I’m afraid I’ve ruined it or fucked it up because—“

 

He sits up, forcing Even’s hand to leave its position on his hip as he faces his boyfriend, all of the pent up anxiety of what this conversation could mean etching itself on his face. Feels the tension of it focus itself in between his brows. “—because I’m moving to Tromsø in December, Even. It just became official this week while I was up there. They offered me a position that I couldn’t not accept.” The words are rushing out of him now. He’s watching Even’s expression, trying to get a read on it, but it’s neutral, only slight concern lacing it as he listens to Isak. “This has been in the works since January. And it was the third offer, and if I didn’t say yes this time - it might not have come around again. And Ev, I _know_ , what I’m about to ask you is selfish. I know I’ve not really been given the right to throw this your way, but I’m going to anyway because you’re here, and you’re you, and I love you, and because Emmy loves you—“

 

Something in Even’s face opens up and relaxes. Makes Isak brave and encourages him to continue.

 

“Will you still stay with me?”

 

It’s so quick. Sudden. An impetuous movement in Even’s face that drops, but only for a moment before it’s back to its neutral beginnings. Isak wants to dissect it. Wants to ask if it means something, but he can barely regard what he’d seen, a flash of a change he isn’t sure he didn’t just make up.

 

“I know it’s long distance and, truthfully, I have no idea what the future holds - but if you would just stay with me during this. I think— I think we could figure it out. I think we could make it work.”

 

He watches Even’s bottom lip slip between his teeth. Watches him chew on it thoughtfully and sees an unease wash over that he wants to wipe away. Tries to push down his own distress at the sight of it, but forces himself to sit where he is and wait. Knows he’s just sprung a lot onto Even.

 

“That’s what you want then?” Even speaks, voice breaking before he clears his throat. “To do this _long distance_?” There’s a fragile tonality in his voice that Isak wants to hold and make stronger. Wants to give him every assurance he can in order to pour back some confidence into his words

 

“Yes, of course. I can’t see any other option. I love you, and the thought of not being with you in any way I can just doesn’t feel right.” He grabs at Evens hand, lacing his fingers with his, and pulling them on his lap to hold, tender and gentle strokes here and there. “Does... it feel right to you?” He lets his insecurities and desperation sound out in his words.  

 

Even is silent, it feels too long, but Isak has nothing left to say. He looks up and sees his boyfriend facing the sea, watches thoughts race through his head as his eyes fixate on something far off.

 

“I want you in any way I can have you, too.” It’s spoken in a hush, a small quiver at the end. “Both of you.”

 

-

 

 

-

 

Being with Even that night is a revelation. It’s the calm in the middle of a storm.

 

It’s slow and deliberate. Every touch speaking adoration into their skin, and every word a promise of their devotion to the other.

 

It’s meticulous as Even opens him up, lips never leaving his skin. His careful damp kisses leaving trails down his thighs and back up again, he shivers at the sensation as the evening air hits each mark left by Even's mouth. Isak squirming beneath him in satisfaction and anticipation. His whole body lighting up from the inside out. Whines escaping from the back of his throat as he tries to walk the balance of keeping quiet and allowing himself the release of the sounds of his pleasure.

 

It’s steady and solid as Even rises above him, leaning down as he presses in between Isak’s legs, whispered profanities uttered by both men at the overwhelming feel of the other when their bodies unite into one.

 

The sound of breaths turning to pants turning to moans turning to incoherent thoughts become the soundtrack of this act of love, and Isak wants more. Can’t get enough.

 

“Even.” It’s choked out, desperate.

 

He feels his answering response on his neck. Even’s face buried heavily there, like a vice pinioning him to that spot.

 

It’s wild and frantic as they push each other to the edge. Isak crying out Even’s name over and over in an uncontrolled chant as he rocks into him at a punishing rate. Even grabbing his chin and forcing his eyes to remain on him, simultaneously hazy but focused.

 

“Stay with me baby, yeah?” It feels like it’s speaking to more than to just this moment. It feels significant

 

So he does. With a deep shuddering breath he grips at Even’s back, fingers slipping over sweat and his legs wrapping around his waist as he meets him thrust for thrust. Desperate and needy. 

 

His climax crashes over him violently, eyes squeezed shut as he clenches around Even, teeth clamping over his shoulder as the older man cries out his own release.

 

And then it’s calm and gentle and undisturbed as they lie there, side by side. Each of their gazes boring into the other, hands and legs intertwined as they speak everything they need to say with their touches; with their looks.

 

_I love you_

 

_I love you_

 

_I love you_

 

-

 

The week flew by, a whirlwind of lazy mornings with over the top breakfasts, bike rides on the trail down the road from the cabin, quiet afternoons full of reading, naps, or both, and evenings making s’mores over the small campfire and bringing blankets onto the sand to fall asleep under the midnight sun.

 

It had been everything Isak didn’t know he needed. Didn’t realize _they_ needed. He could see the deep breaths Emmy was taking, her mind so relaxed it was contagious and spread to Isak - lulling him into a peaceful high of ease and tranquility.

 

He spent his days watching Emmy live in her bathing suit, all her time spent in the sea with her oversized goggles, trying to hold her breath longer and longer each dive she made until she was too cold to stand it any longer - running out to lie on the sand until her skin was baked enough to jump back in.

 

Some days he’d sit out on a towel attempting a tan knowing Even‘s eyes were roaming every inch of skin not covered by his too-tight swim shorts. Other days he’d join Emmy, taking her out deep enough to launch her into the water from his shoulders. Both Valtersens always making a point to taunt and make fun of Even for staying on shore because the water was _'_ _Too cold for my fragile body, Isak!’._

 

It had been a beautiful week. Unforgettable in every way.

 

-

 

The day before they leave is spent in town, walking in and out of shops, commenting at anything that looked interesting and grabbing some ice cream cones to take down to the harbor and enjoy as they watched the boats rock on the docks.

 

“How does someone so tiny manage to always make an enormous mess of food?” Even was wiping at one of Emmy’s hands while she finished her cone, drips of ice cream making its way down her wrist.

 

Isak huffs, rolling his eyes. Glad for once it wasn’t him cleaning her up.

 

“She truly has a gift.” he grumbles to himself while Even finishes her off with one of the wet wipes he’s gotten in the habit of carrying around.

 

They continue their walk a little further down where a fishing boat is making its way in. Isak lifts Emmy up and sits her on the railing so she can look out, his arms securely wrapped around her and holding her in place while she dangles her legs over.

 

He hooks his chin over her shoulder, closing his eyes as she leans back into him and listens to her and Even argue over the proper name for whatever bird they just saw flying overhead.

 

“That’s not an albatross, Even. Did you even have your eyes open when you were looking?”

 

“My eyes are working better than yours, because there’s no way that was an osprey.”

 

They’re both wrong. It’s a heron.

 

It’s mundane and silly and marginally irritating, and Isak’s never felt more at ease.

 

Emmy wiggles in his arms and he hears the artificial sound of a camera shutter go off and looks over to see Even snapping pictures of the two of them with his phone.

 

“Did you get my good angles?” Emmy twists around to look at Even’s phone and inspect the photographs more closely. “Ok. That one looks good, but delete the other one.” She points a finger at the screen.

 

Even lifts his eyes from the phone, unamused expression on his face. “There’s absolutely no way that’s happening.”

 

They both stare at the other. Gazes unwavering and - frighteningly - unblinking.  Isak understands firsthand how intimidating this can be. He watches their standoff in comical anticipation until Emmy gives in with an exasperated and annoyed sigh as she caves.

 

“Fine. But jokes on you, I look cute in all of them." she murmurs under her breath.

 

Even leans in, kisses her messily all over her face until she’s squirming beneath him in high pitched raspy giggles, irritated frown long gone, and Even sidles in closer now, stretching his arm out in front of the three of them with the phone facing them.

 

“Smile!”

 

On cue, they all look up, Emmy relaxing back against Isak, her face trapped between his and Even’s, where he can feel the enormity of her grin as her cheeks stretch out.

 

They take a few more: one of Emmy wearing Even’s sunglasses, another of Isak and Even kissing either side of her face, and one of the three of them pulling silly faces.

 

It’s a good night.

 

-

 

They walk back down to the other side of the harbor, Even carrying a tired Emmy on his hip as she dozes off, playing with his ear, and Isak flanked to his other side holding his hand.

 

They buckle a sleeping Emmy in the car, and spend the next few minutes lazily making out against the door.

 

It’s a good night

 

-

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How are we doing everyone? Where are your thoughts and emotions at? Let me know in the comments - you all are making my week with your words. Truly.
> 
> Please also shower Kim with your love for her art. You can see the art on her Instagram [Here](https://www.instagram.com/p/Buxk6s8hMox/?utm_source=ig_share_sheet&igshid=11lu4084y22r6) and [Here](https://www.instagram.com/p/BuxlDclhk6H/?utm_source=ig_share_sheet&igshid=1s1zjmx8f1pt2). And on Tumblr [Here](https://kkhymmmm.tumblr.com/post/183328169913/for-this-years-skambigbang-first-drawing-for).
> 
> I’m [PinkSkam](https://Pinkskam.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr.  
> 🖤


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW in the End Notes

******JULY**

 

There’re are moments in Isak’s life where he questions every action and word he’s made in order to get to where he is.

 

Today is one of those days.

 

They had spent this particular Saturday at Even’s apartment because Emmy enjoyed the trampoline in his shared backyard and Isak enjoyed the slow friendship she was building with one of the neighbors, Ingrid, who’d been trying to engage Emmy the last few times they’d been here.

 

It was a huge step for her. Talking with someone her own age. Making a friend. So he’d been in a great and giving mood when he offered to make Even’s bed for him after he’d done the wash. And that, unfortunately, was where he made his first mistake. Because now, as he found himself struggling _inside_ the duvet cover, he was regretting his offer of assistance.

 

“Hey babe?

 

He heard Even’s voice down the hall, getting louder too quickly. He attempted to move from his position but found too much resistance and chose not to move instead. That seemed like the smarter option for sure.

 

_Please don’t come in here._

 

“Bug and I were going to—“

 

Even’s voice approaches inside the bedroom doorway and then stops, his boyfriend more than likely taking in the sight of Isak currently tangled and splayed, in equal measure, on his bed inside the duvet cover, and trying to make sense of what exactly he’s looking at.

 

“Iss—“ His voice is dead, some confusion making its way through. “What exactly is happening here…?”

 

He pauses, tries to come up with any explanation that isn’t too embarrassing, but he blanks out and realizes he’s been silent too long. He sighs out his answer, coming out more of a question than he’d like.

 

“Nothing?”

 

“Baby, this _clearly_ is not ‘nothing’.”

 

And he hears it now. The small trace of laughter being shared very much at his expense.

 

Isak lifts his head up, attempting to turn his body around and get out from within the duvet cover, but his leg gets caught in a corner and forces him back down on his belly, star-fished out.

 

“I’m making your bed! Just— go away! I’ll be done soon!” His words fall short of being taken seriously as they get muffled through the duvet itself.

 

And the hint of laughter from before is now full blown heaving. He can’t see, but the slapping sound against the door jam, and the wheezing coming from Even hints at - what Isak would imagine - are tears in his eyes from laughing so hard.

 

He gives in to his plight and stays lying on the bed.

 

“Please,” he deadpans through the fabric, “Take your time.”

 

There are footsteps coming closer, and he feels Even grab his leg, pulling him out, and the duvet cover comes over his head as he does.

 

“Baby, do you not know how to put a duvet together properly?”

 

Isak’s freed from the confines of the blanket, Even running his hand through Isak’s hair which must be in complete disarray now, amusement still very much present on his face and in his voice.

 

“It’s hard! And I usually just…” He quiets down, slightly embarrassed. “...I send Emmy in there because she’s smaller.”

 

Even blinks a few times, trying to decide if he’s serious or not, before he pulls him off the bed, shaking his head.

 

“Isak, and I mean this in the sincerest way possible when I say - I’m so embarrassed for you.”

 

Isak pushes him at his shoulder as they walk out of the bedroom, leaving the bed in its current state and mumbling to himself grumpily.

 

“Whatever. Why else do we have kids for, then?”

 

-

 

**AUGUST**

 

Isak draws the blackout shades in his room closed, removing his t-shirt and tossing it in his hamper before tiredly dragging his body into the bed and under the covers. The darkness is pierced by Even’s phone screen as he swipes up and down reading intently at something that Isak ignores in favor of getting comfortable.

 

This was the second week since returning from the cabin that Even has spent a few nights at the house. Just a couple evenings a week and keeping it as routine as possible. Like everything else in his life since Even entered, it’s been a seamless and comforting transition.

 

He punches his pillow a few times, trying to get comfortable, only to shed his sweatpants until he’s down to his briefs, leaning in towards Even for some physical contact before he inevitably gets too hot and has to move to the other side of the bed.

 

“I have a couple more trips to Tromsø to make before the end of the year.” He presses his forehead to Even’s shoulder, tilting in so the light from his screen doesn’t shine in his eyes. “Would you be okay, staying here with Emmy while I’m gone?”

 

He yawns, a deep one, while he waits for an answer, hears a distracted hum but gets no real response.

 

“If you can’t, I can probably see if my dad or Ina can arrange a few days to fly over, or see if Sana’a got time she can spare from work...”

 

“Hmm?” Even taps a few more times on his phone before his attention is brought back from whatever he’s looking at, reaching an arm over to wrap around Isak and squeeze him in closer. “No don’t do that. It’s fine. I can stay with her.”

 

“You sure?”

 

Even clicks his phone off, tossing it on the nightstand before lying down fully and burrowing further under the covers, somehow still searching for warmth on a summer evening, while Isak takes the opportunity to hook his leg over Evens hip and let his dead weight rest on his boyfriend.

 

“Yeah I’m sure. It’ll be fun. She’s basically my best friend at this point, so”

 

“I’m gonna need you to take that back.” The words muffle a little as he speaks into Even’s shoulder, but he thinks his intent is clear.

 

Even reaches down, grabbing Isak’s leg from behind his knee and hiking it up further, pressing  his face to the top of Isak’s head while he fails to suppress a chuckle.

 

“Baby—“

 

“I don’t care if I sound jealous. It’s probably ‘cause I _am_. Now take it back. She’s mine.” Any heat from his words is countered as he pushes impossibly closer to Even, attempting to find a way to bury himself under his boyfriends skin without, you know, _actually_ burying himself under his skin.

 

“Fine. She’s your best friend.” Even breathes the words and Isak feels his body relax into the mattress further.

 

The quiet settles around them and he welcomes the deep and longer breaths his body takes in the more he succumbs to resting. He’d spent today making endless lists of things that still needed to get done before December. Chief among them: finding Emmy a school and deciding on whether or not he was selling his house here in Bergen so he can make a decision on where he and Emmy would live once in Tromsø.

 

He’d discussed the move with her several times throughout the week. Breaking in the news in intervals to help with the adjustment and transition and the enormity of it all. Getting her used to the idea of being in a new school with new students and teachers after the winter holidays, living in a new home and town with a colder climate and different scenery, and - seeing Even a little less as well.

 

Actually - a lot less.

 

The discussion had gone as expected, her compulsions increasing slightly throughout the week - and it was exhausting.

 

She was unable to stop tapping _anything_ within reach at any given time. He found her in her bathroom a few nights ago, thirty minutes after he had sent her in there before bedtime, toothbrush in hand and tapping it against the sink in her rhythm of _threes,_ counting out loud over and over again - she’d never even gotten around to brushing her teeth.

 

That had been particularly unnerving to him, as it’s always the thought and knowledge that he isn’t always around for these episodes that brings the most stress to him. Knowing she’d been in there for as long as she had, and unable to stop herself and her anxieties brings him the greatest unease and guilt.

 

But they’re dealing with it. They’re working through it. There was a small dosage change of her medications for this adjustment period to see her through to the end of the year at least, she saw Lette once a week through the summer still, and of course, there was Even.

 

Even, who would use his unending conversational skills to attempt distraction. Who could read her incredibly well and tell when that would only exacerbate her compulsions, and instead opt for silence by her side. Even, who would calmly place a hand on hers and get her to vocalize her fear at that moment, patiently hold her while she struggled to breathe as her anxiety peaked, promising her that it would slow down and disappear eventually. And then rock her once it did.

 

Even, who was there and available when some days Isak found it impossible to try and think clearly enough to know what was the right thing to do after his own first attempts failed, or because it was the seventh compulsion ritual that day and they’d not even had lunch yet.

 

Even who was constantly around and a necessary component to their family unit - but who’d also soon not be as accessible. It was a lot to digest and Isak was finding himself consumed with that stress more and more, and it wasn’t comfortable.

 

“Are you still awake?” Even’s voice rings out in the silence, the clarity of it exhibiting that he hadn’t been close to falling asleep yet.

 

“Mhmm.”

 

“The school needs to know by this weekend if I’m taking the job as principal, since school starts back up at the end of the month...”

 

Isak shuffles a little. Starting to feel too warm, but not yet ready to sever contact for the night.

 

“Aren’t you taking it?”

 

There’s silence, Even fidgeting with the hem of Isak’s boxer briefs distractedly.

 

“Do you think I should?” There’s an uncertainty in his tone that is unfamiliar. An insecurity that seems out of place.

 

“You like the job, yeah? Why not keep it?” Another yawn escapes him, he twists his back a little to crack it, and settles back on Even.

 

“Yeah, I loved the job, it’s just—“ Another pause, and Isak let’s it sit between them. Not sure if he should interject. “So I should take the job then?”

 

“Yeah babe. You should take the job.”

 

Even continues to pull and fiddle with the hem of his briefs to the point of distraction for Isak. He reaches down and clamps his hand over Even’s.

 

“Babe,” Even halts his actions. “Go to sleep.”

 

It takes a few moments - a few too many moments - for Even to relax. But he does, and as soon as Isak feels it, he drifts back into that place in between slumber and consciousness, trying not to give too much thought to this conversation. Trying not to give too much thought to other conversations he’s been having internally.

 

-

 

**OCTOBER**

 

Isak puts the house on the market.

 

It sells in three weeks.

 

-

 

_Breathe in._

 

_Breathe out._

 

That’s the mantra he internally recites as he closes out of his personal email and locks his phone, taking a moment to throw his head back where he sits at his desk and close his eyes - reminding himself to breathe.

 

He finally heard back from the organization he’d been referred to for obtaining an emotional support animal for Emmy. They had two dogs that had been training for a year to specifically support OCD, and come January, if he was still interested, they’d be ready to meet Emmy.

 

He wrote back that he was.

 

It all feels like another nail in the coffin. Everything lately was beginning to feel like suffocating. He’s grateful for his new position, excited even, and there’s an added buzz coursing through him when he realizes he gets to experience a new place. And he’s even thrilled at having an _ESA_ for Emmy soon.

 

He is.

 

But he’s also concerned with how much he’s done in such a short amount of time. Having a child when he was a teenager, expediting his degree while raising said child, accomodating a diagnosis for his daughter that comes with the need for attention and focus from him at every moment, falling in love and creating an unexpected family unit with Even in under a years time, and making significant moves across the country. All, it seems, without ever resting. Tromsø is exciting, but it’s also foreign and he’ll be navigating that himself - because he wont have Even. A reminder that makes itself known everytime he catches himself becoming too comfortable with how much Even does for him and Emmy. Knowing that the routine of their relationship - their _family_ \- as it is now, isn’t going to be sustainable and not something he can allow himself to become complacent with. Because too soon, it will all be gone and he will have to rely on himself.

 

_Breath in._

 

_Breathe out._

 

_-_

 

**NOVEMBER**

 

He keeps reminding himself that once they move, things will begin to calm down. At least in some areas. He keeps reminding himself. But the stress of moving in four weeks is beginning to take over Isak, and he isn’t giving his best self to his daughter or boyfriend. He knows this.

 

Since the house had sold, it’s been nothing but a chaotic state of living for Isak. Packing a home to prepare for a cross country move with a child should be an Olympic sport. Doing all of this while trying to keep Emmy at baseline - that was damn near impossible.

 

With some heroic efforts made by a colleague in Tromsø, Isak was able to find a cottage for him and Emmy. Bigger than what they had now, but a little more _new_. Nothing like the lived-in feel of their old wooden home. But it was close to Emmy’s school and had an incredible view of _Tromsø Bridge_ and the _Arctic Cathedral._ It was nice and would serve them well, it would just take some time for it to feel like home. Yet another thing he was stressing over. Another thing he had to overcome. 

 

Most of their furniture and belongings had been packed and taken by movers up to the house ahead of time, a second trip with their remaining belongings and all of Emmy’s room would go up the day before they flew up themselves. Keeping Emmy’s own space in tact was a requirement for maintaining any semblance of routine during this time. Even if that meant an enormous mess of boxes and randomly placed furniture would be waiting for him in the new place to be unpacked.

 

His father had, thankfully, come for a few days to help, taking Emmy out on the weekend to let Isak get as much packing as possible completed without the added hassle, and Emmy had been more than excited to spend the extra time with _Grandpa James_ , an excessive and unnecessary endearment she insisted on calling him since finding out she was named after him. And Even would bring Emmy home from school and get some form of dinner on the table for them so it was one less thing for Isak to worry about.

 

His support system was wonderful and beyond helpful, making the chaos as at ease as it could possibly be, but something about Even had been off and it was all beginning to wear on Isak. Yet, aside from his change in mood, Even never spoke up. Never elaborated on the change. And Isak had too much going on to take the time to ask him to anyways.

 

If he’d given himself the time to step back and assess the situation. To see that he was in a place where he was just getting through the motions and not actually _present_ when he needed to be, maybe it could have all been prevented.

 

Well, probably not. But he would have definitely at least seen it coming. As it was, it all came tumbling down the last weekend in November anyway.

 

Though it wasn’t as if it truly came out of nowhere, but he understands why Even thought so. Why Even felt betrayed by the entire thing. However, in truth, it had been rising to the surface for a while, waiting for the thin veil that had been holding it back to finally weaken and allow it to explode. It had been quiet thoughts creeping their way into Isak’s days, bringing small disruptions that buried minute doubts within him. Apprehensions and fears that grew louder with each passing day - each passing moment.

 

And somewhere else deep within him, he also _knew_ that allowing these worries to fester without true acknowledgement wasn’t a healthier option either. But Isak had been prioritizing his stress the last few months by whichever situation was easiest to handle at that moment - and this in particular never seemed to make the top of his list. Maybe it should have. And if he had given _that_ any serious thought, maybe the entire situation would have happened sooner, or the casualties could have, at the very least, been less severe. Fewer broken hearts, maybe. Or at least, hearts able to one day become mended and healed, and not so conclusively and thoroughly shattered.

 

-

 

He wishes he’d remembered these books sooner. Still not sure how, two weeks before he’s to move, he managed to forget about the enormous pile of old college textbooks in the back of his closet, collecting several layers of dust along with several more layers of forgotten clothing that Isak’s not sure even fit him any longer. Regardless, this is where he’s at now, which means more organizing and packing of boxes that are too heavy to even carry.

 

He hears Even walk in behind him, his tread on the floor muted by the enormous persian rug spread out the length of the room.

 

He really needs to roll that up and get it downstairs for the movers.

 

Isak continues to work through sorting the mess in front of him - mentally going over more tasks yet to be done - as he hears the tired sigh come from his boyfriend, the mattress creaks below where he sits on its edge and Isak rolls his eyes to himself, biting the inside of his cheek to keep himself from letting out his own passive aggressive groan.

 

Because that’s what this is, or at least what it feels like. It’s been in Even’s repertoire for the last several weeks. His sighs that are heavy with exasperation and irritation, but never providing Isak with any further explanation. Just an annoyed look and that fucking sigh.

 

“I have a staff meeting tomorrow morning that I have to be out of the house earlier than usual for.” There’s more settling on the bed from Even as he speaks. Isak waits for him to finish his thought, but he doesn't seem to have more to say.

 

“Ok.” It’s a distracted acknowledgement, but it’s all he’s capable of at the moment.

 

“Why don’t you come to bed? I can rub your back and we can fall asleep to some dumb comedy podcasts.”

 

“I need to get this finished. Just—“ He takes a deep breath, attempting to adjust his tone before continuing, but not sure he succeeds. “I’ll shut the light off soon. Use my sleep mask if you need.”

 

And he hears it, that sigh again.

 

“Right, yeah. Please, finish up whatever you’re doing right now.” His tone is heavy with sarcasm, and it seeps into Isak, pushing up everything he’s been forcing down, flaring up and emerging into something searing and wild.

 

“Jesus! What’s the issue Even?” He explodes. “Fucking out with it already!”

 

He turns around where he sits on the floor in front of his closet, tossing the book he’d been holding off to the side carelessly, and runs his hand over his face a little too harshly.

 

If Even is stunned, it’s only for a moment.

 

“My issue? My _issue_ is that you’re fucking yelling at me right now and can’t even look at me. My issue is that I’ve got limited hours of sleep tonight and I wanted to spend the few hours awake I have _with_ you, not just in the same room as you. My fucking issue, Isak, is that I have limited _days_ with you until you leave to the goddamn North Pole, and then I get to have shared screen time with you until the school year ends and I can manage to get up there for a visit. My fucking Issue is that you’d rather bury yourself in sorting some shit that can wait until tomorrow instead of looking at me or giving me a conversation that isn’t more than a few sentences long or filled with frustration every damn time!”

 

Isak leans back against his closet door. Face stoic and hard while Even continues, voice softer this time.

 

“I know you’re tired. Shit, Isak - I can see it all over you. But just talk to me, baby.” he pleads. “You’re leaving in two weeks and—“ His voice breaks and Isak watches the skin around his eyes flush red with unshed tears.

 

He knows that it’s now. It can’t wait any longer, and putting it off this long is a burden he’ll have to live with. He looks away from Even, tilts his head back and stares at his ceiling instead.

 

“Even, I don’t think—”

 

“Isak, shut up.”

 

The desperation in Even’s voice is enough to give him pause, bring a sting and pinch to his chest. But he ignores what he can and continues anyway.

 

“This isn’t going to work long term. It’s better if we call it quits now.” He’s not cold, or at least he’s not trying to be. But he’s as decisive as he can be in the way he carries his words. There’s no room left here for anything else.

 

Even lets out a humorless laugh. It’s painful and unsettling as he shakes his head back and forth, a disbelieving expression on his face.

 

“Isak, we can have a fight without you breaking up with me. We can be fucking angry at each other without you looking for a—”

 

“I said it’s not going to work, Even!”

 

He sees Even flinch at his words and realizes he’s yelled. He comes back to himself, his chest heaving from the exertion and his skin prickling with heat as he takes a few moments to gather himself, voice more steady this time. “I’ve thought about this for a while—“

 

“And when were you going to include me in these discussions?!”

 

“Jesus, just fucking listen to me!” He fights back the burn behind his eyes. “I leave in two weeks, and that’s it. This isn’t university, Even. I’m not going to be back in four years. I don’t have a reunion point to offer you. This is it for me for a long while. Not just for my career, but for my kid. I have to maintain some sort of constant for her and her sanity - literally! She’s eight years old and has already moved twice _and_ lost her mother! She’s eight, Even!”

 

He takes a moment to compose himself; gathers his thoughts and emotions and does his best to separate them.

 

“This doesn’t mean that I didn’t love you - that I _don’t_ love you, this just means that I— I fucked up Even, ok? I was selfish and I wanted you and I fucked up. I’m sorry.”

 

He finally looks at Even who’s staring back, face soaked with the onslaught of silent tears falling and chest shuddering with the sobs he's keeping in. He swallows thickly, hating himself for what he’s doing. For what he’s caused. “But if you’re honest with yourself about this,” he whispers, “you’d know, too, that a long distant relationship between us would never work.”

 

And he means that. This isn’t Isak needing to be a martyr. Sustaining something with Even through the distance that would be between them would never last. Not with Isak’s focus needing to be on Emmy and on work, especially with the facility’s added offer of working with him as he pursues his post doc. He wouldn’t have anything left to give elsewhere, he knows this. And he knows, that Even knows this too.

 

Even wipes at his face as he stands up from the bed. There’s a smile on his lips, but it’s nothing but sorrow pouring out of it.

 

“You made your decision then? I don’t get to say anything? Fuck me, right?”

 

“Even…”

 

“What about Emmy then? She’s my—” He gasps for air, clutching at his heart. “Fuck Isak. I’m in love with the both of you! You just ripped that from me entirely.” His words finally sobs, and Isak’s lost the ability to stop his own tears from spilling over. His chest feeling gutted at every word and sound Even utters. Watching the pain etched on his face and hearing the grief as he speaks.

 

His throat constricts painfully as he chokes down the sounds of his own agony.

 

“I’ll talk to Emmy tomorrow.” His body betrays him, a whimper escaping at the thought of the pain he’s caused his daughter by bringing something beautiful in her life only to tear it away from her. “I’ll pick her up from school too.”

 

And then he cries. He cries for Even, who looks betrayed by those words. He cries for Emmy and her heart, a heart too big for the world she’s in. He cries for himself, knowing this will never be something he’ll forgive himself for or recover from.

 

Even grabs his sweater from on top of the laundry pile, pulling it over his head and rummages around the nightstand for his wallet and phone, pocketing them both in his sweatpants before finally looking back at Isak.

 

“You and I both know she won’t be at school tomorrow.” he bites out, and then he's gone.

 

And Isak, he cries.

 

-

 

“Even’s not here?”

 

It was the fourth time she's asked that question since he’s explained the situation to her that morning. She's sitting on his bed looking into his chest and staring at nothing, her hand gripping tightly at his knee, white knuckles blooming as she asks the question.

 

“No Bug, he’s not.” He sits still, his voice wavering as he watches her eyes shift back and forth quickly and the wrinkle in her forehead deepens.

 

“Even’s not here.” It wasn’t a question anymore.

 

“Even’s not here. Even’s not here. Even’s not here.” Her hand was tapping his knee now, a tap for every word.

 

_Even’s not here._

 

_Even’s not here._

 

_Even’s not here._

 

_1, 2, 3._

 

_1, 2, 3._

 

_1, 2, 3._

 

Her hand curls into a fist as it sets a heavy and brutal rhythm on his leg, her other hand clenched and shaking violently.

 

“Even’s not here. Even’s not here. Even’s not here…”

 

Her eyes widen. Pupils dilating in fear, and he places a firm hand over her fist and squeezes, the pain in his own chest magnifying as he watches his daughters heart continue to break.

 

“Bug, baby look at me.” His voice is pleading as he ducks his head trying to catch her eyes, but she continues pounding on his leg, the intensity increasing as her shoulders shake and tears escape down her face.

 

“Even’s not here! Even’s not here! Even’s not here!”

 

-

 

It’s an hour later before she’s sound asleep in his arms, her chant from earlier a continuum in his head as he cries silently to himself.

 

_Even’s not here. Even’s not here. Even’s not here…_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Panic attack in a child.  
> 🖤  
> Are you ok...?  
> 🖤  
> I’m [PinkSkam](https://Pinkskam.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr.  
> 🖤


	11. Chapter 11

**__________**

**Even**

 

 **There’s some things at my house** **you left.**

 **Some clothes and books** **including Bug’s Jesus T-shirt.**

 **They’re in my office, but she hasn’t been** **in school and you leave in a few days.**

 

**Shit. I forgot about all of that.**

**Do you mind stopping by after work?** **Or I can come to you if that’s easier.**

 

 **I’ll stop by. I want to see Bug** **anyway before you leave**

**Is that alright?**

 

**Of course.**

**It’s not been great, but I think she should see you.**

**I’ll see you later?**

 

**Yeah. Later.**

**__________**

 

-

 

He’s sitting on the top of his stairs, half empty beer bottle in hand, Emmy’s bedroom door ajar behind him as he listens to Even and Emmy whisper back and forth to each other. Even had come a little later than planned and Isak offered to let him do bedtime with her.

 

He hears the faint _‘Love, love, love you’s’_ come through the hall before the sound of the bedroom door clicks and Even is sitting beside him on the top stair. His presence looming but warm. Missed.

 

It’s quiet, the air is heavy around them. Not so much uncomfortable as it is intense. The bottle is dangling from Isak’s hand as his arms rest on his thighs and he keeps his eyes straight ahead, focusing on the window next to the front door at the bottom of the stairs. Even reaches for the beer and he relinquishes it to him freely. Listens as Even takes three deep swallows next to him.

 

“You were right.” Even breathes the words out after a pregnant pause, a reluctance in his tone.

 

There’s a joke there, somewhere, about how those are Isak’s three favorite words to hear, but the mood is somber and he knows Even has more to say, so he remains quiet and lets him continue.

 

“About us. You were right.” He takes another swig before handing the bottle back to Isak. “We would have never worked out long distance.” There’s a careful sense of intention as he speaks those words. “Bug needs her routine, and so do you - whether you realize it or not. Being separated would have been too much of a stress on you. On both of us.” Isak feels him turn his face to look at him, and he gives in and looks back. There’s still pain in his expression, but also a resignation that Isak wishes he never had to see. “It’s better that it happened now, and—“ His eyes flicker back and forth as he whispers, “I don’t regret it.” The hush of his voice rushes over Isak like a warm breeze. “Do you?”

 

“No.”

 

It’s as simple as that. It’s as complicated as that.

 

“I don’t regret it. Do I hate that I broke your heart? Yeah. Do I wish timing had been different? Absolutely. And I can’t stand the pain Bug is going through either. But I know as she gets older, she’ll be glad you are in her life at all. So no, I don’t regret it. I could never.”

 

Even reaches out and puts an arm around Isak’s shoulder, bringing him in close so his head is resting between his chest and neck. It feels like a promise. He couldn’t have Even romantically, but friends - they could try friends.

 

“I’m still mad at you though.”

 

“Yeah.” he sighs. “I’m mad at me too.”

 

-

 

**__________**

**Even**

 

**Taking off in a few minutes.**

**Flight lands in a couple hours.**

**Still on to FaceTime with Bug tonight?**

 

**…**

 

**Have to go on airplane mode now.**

**I’ll text when we land.**

 

**__________**

 

-

 

“Bug, wake up.” He pushes gently at her shoulder, disrupting her slumber and watches angry green eyes greet him as they open. She hates waking up as much as he does. “Get up. We’re here.”

 

It’s slow moving, but her eyes begin to focus as she stretches out, yawning and tugging Even’s old burgundy hoodie more tightly around her. He brought it with him the night he’d stopped by to give to her, and although it was far too big for her to wear, she insisted on using it like a blanket.

 

Isak was only slightly jealous.

 

He lets her stretch while he reaches above them for the one carry-on item they brought for the flight - everything else, his car included, already moved to their new home. With everything going on, it was too much to expect Emmy to handle over a days worth of travel driving.

 

He checks his phone one more time once they get out of the gate, but Even still hasn’t responded.

 

They’d spoken more the night he’d come by, agreeing that it would benefit no one if Emmy couldn’t still have a relationship with Even. And they agreed to phone calls and FaceTimes between them. Isak knew he’d have to set boundaries for himself, there was absolutely no part of him that wasn’t still in love with this man. That wished things had gone differently on their first date, a year and a half ago - maybe things would be different now. Maybe he wouldn’t have taken the job. Maybe he would have asked Even to move with him. Maybe Even would say yes and not think about the snow and how much he hates it.

 

Maybe. Maybe. Maybe.

 

But here he was, in this universe, and he could go over all the _what if’s_ in the world, but his situation wouldn’t change. So in the meantime he’d be careful and he would give himself the space he needed, because if he didn’t, he’d likely not move on - and his heart was hanging on by a thread as it was. He still had no idea how it was going to work, but it was a small price to pay for Bug.

 

-

 

It isn’t too late and the drive in the cab isn't long, but it’s dark and cold and has been an emotional day to begin with - they’re both tired by the time they pull up in front of their new home.

 

He pays the driver, and double checks that Emmy is still bundled, the wind a lot stronger over here and the temperatures lower than what they’d just left behind in Bergen. Emmy’s lightly tapping her hand on the door, but gets out anyways, grabbing his hand and squeezing in _threes_ as they make their walk up the long driveway.

 

There was snow falling still, and the forecast didn’t show it slowing down for a few more days, which suits him and his mood just fine. He won’t start work until after the holidays and he can use the dreary days as an excuse to remain holed up in the house. Maybe actually get all of the unpacking done in a timely manner.

 

He shoulders the duffel bag he’d packed for the two of them and squints against the wind as they walk, checking one last time to see if Even had responded.

 

He was supposed to be flying back to Oslo this morning for the holidays, but he should have been there by now. Isak isn’t worried he’d miss his call with Emmy, but he isn’t going to lie and say that he doesn’t secretly enjoy the idea of a few texts from him as well. Which is part of the problem, isn’t it?

 

He pockets his phone once they approach the front door, taking him a moment to root around for his keys and getting them inside. The house is warm and a few lights were on, compliments of his new boss, Geir, who promised to come by and get the house prepped for their arrival.

 

They shed their layers in the mud room and tiredly make their way to the kitchen, where he plans on making a call for some takeout for dinner.

 

Emmy silently walks to the kitchen island, climbing up a stool and sitting down, head pillowed on her arms in front of her as she quietly taps a rhythm while Isak joins her, tapping below her ear with his thumb for comfort and swipes through his phone for a nearby pizza place.

 

From what he can see of the house, most of the big furniture items are placed, more or less, exactly where he’d want them - one less thing to worry about - but there are still boxes everywhere and the dread of unpacking it all is causing stomach cramps.

 

“Does pepperoni and mushroom sound okay, Bug?”

 

She hums, taps a few more times before looking over at him.

 

“Margherita?”

 

He bends down and presses a long kiss to her cheek.

 

“We can do margherita.” he murmurs against her face.

 

There’s a deep _thud_ from upstairs, and they both sit up staring at the ceiling startled by the noise.

 

The last thing you want, is to find out you’re not alone in your home when that’s exactly what you should be, but he stands up slowly, taking a quick survey of the downstairs to look for anything he can use as a weapon and the nearest exits for Emmy and him.

 

“Geir?” he calls out, hoping beyond all hope that the older man stayed for some weird and unexplainable reason.

 

His hand is poised on his phone, ready to dial _112_ when there’s another _thud_ followed by the sound of something being dragged across the floor.

 

“Geir?” He tries one more time. The dragging sound stops and footsteps make their way to the stairs.

 

“Isak?!”

 

And that’s not Geirs voice. Nor is it Geir who rounds the corner in sweatpants, wool socks, and a pink pig printed hoodie a little too small for his frame.

 

“Even!” Emmy’s breathless and out of her chair, launching herself into his arms. Even smothering her face in kisses while they both laugh in greeting and Isak stands frozen in his kitchen trying to catch up with the scene in front of him.

 

Even shifts Emmy onto his hip where she gets comfortable and settles into the crook of his neck like she belongs there, playing with his ear as Even fixes his gaze on Isak.

 

“Listen—“

 

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

 

It’s a little harsh coming from him, he hears it and inwardly winces at his own tone, but he has too many emotions sitting at the surface buzzing beneath him and he doesn’t know which to give free reign to first. Excitement? Hope? Confusion? Apprehension? They all sit there dangerously and he’s not ready to let them loose yet.

 

“Swear jar.” Emmy mumbles it from where she’s tucked in Even’s arms and Isak glares at her even though she can’t see.

 

But Even does. Still, he ignores her and keeps his attention on Isak.

 

“You were supposed to text me when you landed.”

 

“I did.” There’s some incredulity in his tone. “And _you_ were supposed to be in Oslo.”

 

Even takes a few steps towards him.

 

“Are you mad at me right now?”

 

“You scared the hell out of me, Even! I thought we were being robbed, Jesus!”

 

Even relaxes, leaning his unoccupied hip against the counter.

 

“Sorry about that. I should have checked my phone.”

 

It falls silent between the two of them, Isak’s heart racing at the uncertainty of why Even is standing in front of him, fully aware of the enormity of the gesture and the possible meaning behind it - not sure he has it in him to turn Even down if he insists on resuming their relationship long distance, but knowing it’s what he should do.

 

“Even— why are you here?”

 

“I told you, I’m mad at you.”

 

Isak scrubs at his face, taking his frustration out on his skin.

 

“Jesus, we’ve been over this—”

 

“Isak, shut up and listen to me for two minutes. Just— ” He pauses and his face falls, a stern but almost pleading look takes over. “You took my family from me and moved to the North Pole. The least you can do is just listen to me.”

 

The words assault him and his heart stops for too many beats. So he does - listen, that is  

 

“I told you that you were right. We wouldn’t have worked long distance.” His expression shifts to a soft intensity as he speaks. “Maybe for a little while, but eventually…” He pauses, awkwardly hiking up the sleeves on the pig hoodie with Emmy still in his arms. “Eventually it would have fallen apart, because neither one of us could really handle being away from the other.”

 

Isak opens his mouth to interrupt, but Even raises his eyebrows in challenge and Isak backs down.

 

“Iss, why didn’t you ask me to move up here with you?” Something in his voice breaks and Isak sees his confident facade crumble at the edges.

 

His own pulse stops at the question. At the implication laced in that sentence.

 

“I— “ He shakes his head, looking for clarity that doesn’t come. “What…?” He stumbles over his words and sees Emmy still her actions, paying attention to the conversation in front of her now.

 

“I know some of that’s on me, right? I wasn’t as open as I could be about us. I didn’t tell you that this wasn’t just something I was testing out. That you weren’t just a _Beta Family_ for me. That you two were _it_ for me. Iss, that’s on me. But why didn’t _you_ ask me to move up here with you?”

 

Isak scrubs over his face. “Even— you hate the damn cold!”

 

“Bullshit.”

 

“Swear Jar.”

 

Isak glares at his daughter again, grasping at every last ounce of restraint he has right now not to explode - there’s too much going on right now and he’s just looking for a scapegoat.

 

Even narrows his eyes meaningfully, sensing Isak’s nerves crackling at the surface, and presses a kiss to Emmy’s head as he sets her down on the counter, eyes never leaving Isak as he reaches into his pocket and pulls out his wallet, handing it to Emmy.

 

“Bug just take this and we’ll call it even for today.” Her face lights up and she immediately starts rifling through, her head tilted towards her father as she pays attention to the scene unfolding in front of her.

 

“Bullshit.” Even takes a step towards him, repeating his words, and seems pleased and confident when Emmy doesn’t call him out for it.

 

Isak shoves his fists into his pockets, both hands trembling from being overwhelmed and too prideful to let Even see him like that right now. But his gaze shifts down to Isak’s hands and he sucks his lip in between his teeth in a look of empathy, patiently waiting for Isak’s response.

 

“Your job is in Bergen.” He tries again weakly, voice trembling a little as his heart beats furiously inside his chest.

 

Even takes another step forward.

 

“Bullshit.” It’s softer this time.

 

“No it’s not!” He lifts his head up in defiance, indignant at the call out. “It’s not bullshit. Your job is literally in Bergen.”

 

Even moves again, in his space now and shaking his head slowly.

 

“No Isak. There is _a_ job in Bergen. Not _the_ job, and definitely nothing worth being separated from you two.” Even lifts a hand, caressing Isak’s face as he tilts his own head down towards him. “Baby,” It’s whispered and sends a shudder through Isak’s body. “Why didn’t you ask me to move with you?”

 

There’s a touch of uncertainty in his tone, but his intention is clear - _what are you afraid of?_

 

Isak squeezes his fists in his pocket - once, twice, three times - to try and stave off the anxiety.

 

_Breathe in._

 

_Breath out._

 

_Breathe in—_

 

“I didn’t think I was allowed to.”

 

The words are out of him quickly and quietly, and he’s just as suddenly wrapped in Even, the taller man engulfing him in his arms, squeezing him ruthlessly and burying his face in Isak’s hair. Isak’s arms latch around his waist and he lets the words fall from his tongue, muffled where his lips meet Even’s neck and it feels perfect.

 

“It’d barely been half a year when I was given the promotion, it seemed too fast and I didn’t want to lose you by scaring you. I didn’t want to face the rejection of you telling me no - I just wanted the assurance that I _could_ have you, so I was safe with my choices. Did what I thought I could get, and then hated myself for hurting everyone in the end, and I— “

 

He stops, sucking in a desperate breath and fading his words out, nothing more to add. He’d been scared. As simple as that. Couldn’t handle another person leaving him without him having some sort of control over it. It wasn’t the most profound motivation, and certainly cliche as fuck - but it was the deepest truth he knew.

 

“And what about now?” Even’s words are spoken against his head, his breaths blowing at the few wayward curls he hadn’t bothered trying to tame today.

 

“What do you mean?”

 

Even straightens out, pulling back so he’s looking in Isak’s eyes.

 

“Will you ask me now?”

 

He glances over Even’s shoulder and see’s Emmy - posture rigid and stiff and eyes looking at the wallet in her hand, but her grip is limp and he can see her eyes shifting back and forth beneath her lids as she waits and listens.

 

Too smart. Too aware.

 

He looks back at Even, a walking piece of juxtaposition as he simultaneously holds hope and insecurity in his eyes. He pauses for a beat. Knows what he’s going to say before he says it, but still needs the moment to gather himself. To muster up his courage and give himself this.

 

_1, 2, 3._

 

_1, 2, 3._

 

_1, 2–_

 

“Do you want to move to Tromso with me and Emmy?”

 

The grin that grows on Even’s lips is alarming in its brightness. It splits his face, and the exuberance and joy and relief that floods out of him is contagious as he kisses the words into him, “Yes please.”

 

Their kiss is interrupted by the salt from their tears and the smiles on their faces, but it does nothing to quell their intent to keep moving their mouths against the other - more tears falling and more smiles growing. Old cracks and fissures on his heart being filled in as they kiss - his mind and soul feeling strengthened for the first time in too long. 

 

There’s a shove against their hips as Emmy appears between them, Even pulling apart from Isak so he can scoop his daughter up and set her on his hip. She winds her arms around his neck and rests her forehead against his temple, and he feels her own tears gliding from her cheeks onto his. She skims his face with her nose until he turns to properly face her, nuzzling against his as she speaks.

 

“Those are happy tears, daddy.”

 

And as a fresh batch of water pours down his face, he presses his nose right back against Emmy’s. “Yes, Bug. These are happy tears.”

 

-

 

“What were you doing upstairs earlier?”

 

Their sitting at the table, crowded around pizza boxes and spending time together as a family - no clock ticking above their heads counting down to an inevitable end or loss. It’s a beautiful freedom that Isak never thought he’d have  

 

“I was putting Bug’s room together so she’d be able to have her routine tonight.” 

 

It’s said so nonchalantly - as if the gesture isn’t one of the sexiest things he could do in that moment. And Isak falls more deeply as he watches his boyfriend shove the last bite of pizza crust into his mouth, wiping the crumbs onto the pink pig hoodie before he’s bombarded with a thought. 

 

“Oh fuck! How do you feel about dogs?”

 

“Huh?”

 

“Swear jar!”

 

-

 

**::THE END::**

 

**-**

 

****

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y’all - I don’t know what to say. I was _so_ unbelievably apprehensive about posting this story. Most people don’t enjoy kid fics, and a lot of people hate reading stories where an OC is heavily portrayed - and I was dumb enough to do both. So I truly cannot believe the reception this story got. I am floored that you all fell in love with Emmy the way I did.
> 
> Most of my gratitude needs to be extended to Panshambles, who read over this story too many times and caught my terrible spelling errors and talked me off the ledge on many occasions. She was so patient and so sweet and I’ve done nothing to deserve being on the receiving end of her love. 
> 
> And then of course to Kim ([Instagram & ](https://www.instagram.com/p/Bu09P8RB5yl/?utm_source=ig_share_sheet&igshid=15fr5mhp0uwm3) [Tumblr](https://kkhymmmm.tumblr.com/post/183355432523/for-this-years-skambigbang-first-drawing-for)) - who chose this story and loved it enough to portray these characters with such care. I couldn’t have asked for a more skilled and thoughtful artist. 
> 
> And lastly, to Skamsnake - because she’s cute and I love her and that’s all that should matter. 
> 
> Please don’t hesitate to leave comments and let me know how you feel, what you’re thinking, and your experience reading this story - your words mean the fucking world to me.
> 
> Bye for now. Off to take a break before finishing my WIP’s.
> 
> I’m [PinkSkam](https://Pinkskam.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr.
> 
> 💗


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